


Eliot Enchanted

by malir0t, ramblingsofaqueerwoman



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Ella Enchanted AU, M/M, Quentin thinks he's going to die and is okay with it, because I'm not SJH, but he doesn't die!!, it's a fairy tale!!, there is one scene in chapter eight that could be read as suicidal ideation, there's adventures and battles and true love's kiss!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26595634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malir0t/pseuds/malir0t, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblingsofaqueerwoman/pseuds/ramblingsofaqueerwoman
Summary: Quentin of Frell knows two things for certain.1. He was cursed with obedience, and2. The fairy who bestowed the curse is the only one who can lift itNow he’s on a crazy quest to find this elusive fairy and maybe even save the entire kingdom along the way.Or…Sometimes a family is a cursed human, his clever best friend, a fairy with anger issues, a sarcastic book, an elf with law aspirations, a bloodthirsty bodyguard, and a really handsome prince.
Relationships: Margo Hanson/Alice Quinn, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, William "Penny" Adiyodi/Kady Orloff-Diaz/Julia Wicker
Comments: 27
Kudos: 67
Collections: Magicians Happy Ever After





	1. an unfortunate beginning

**Author's Note:**

> as soon as I saw Ella Enchanted as one of the options on this year's list, I knew I had to do it. I've been obsessed with the book since I was a kid and I've watched the movie more times than any sane person really should. hopefully you like the retelling of the story as much as I liked writing it. Frell is a fun world to play in. :D
> 
> as always, thank you to my amazing wonderful soulmate/wife/beta [Katie](https://missberryisbest.tumblr.com/), and the amazing artist I got paired with this year, [Maya](https://maliro-t.tumblr.com/).  
> go give them love. 
> 
> (and if you're gonna be a stickler about the title, yes, I know Eliot isn't the one enchanted in this, but come on! I couldn't resist the alliteration)
> 
> enjoy <3

> _Fairy tales tell, as their labels imply,  
> _ _Stories of magic, of creatures that fly  
> _ _With giants and dragons and ogres and elves  
> _ _And inanimate objects that speak for themselves_
> 
> _There's romance and danger and plotting of schemes  
> _ _There's good guys and bad guys and some guys in between  
> _ _A fairy tale also reveals some sort of truth  
> _ _The perils of choices we face in our youth_
> 
> _But our story today is different in theme  
> _ _For our hero had no choice, or so it would seem  
> _ _It starts with a fairy bestowing a spell  
> _ _This ones for a baby, named Quentin of Frell_

* * *

“Tell me the story again, Dad,” Quentin begged, curling up closer to his father’s side.

Quentin of Frell was 13 years old, and his father was dying. There were other things about him that were also important, of course, but this fact seemed to be the most pressing. 

“Again?” Ted asked, giving a weak laugh that turned into a deep, rattling cough. “Haven’t you got it memorized yet?” 

“Like it better when you tell it,” Q mumbled from where his face was buried in his dad’s shoulder. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his father’s nightshirt, worrying at a string that had been loose for weeks but somehow hadn’t fallen out yet. 

Ted sighed, but the sound was fond. His chin rested against the top of Quentin’s head. He disguised it as affection, but Q knew it was actually because he was too weak to hold it up anymore. Q wasn’t a _child_ anymore - he _knew things_.

“Six months after you were born,” Ted began, and Q smiled, wriggling into a more comfortable position before his dad really got going, “a fairy came to give you a gift.” 

The words washed over him, his father’s voice both familiar and comforting.. He closed his eyes, trying to push away the feeling of finality that came with the well-known story. _Would this be the last time?_ Quentin wasn’t dumb. He knew his dad was dying. But there was still a part of his brain, the small still-a-child part, that stubbornly believed that Ted would be okay. _See? He’s telling a story! He’ll be just fine._ Q clung to that hope as he listened. 

* * *

_On the morning of the fateful day that changed Quentin’s life forever, Ted and him had been alone in the nursery. Ted rocked his son and reached out a finger for the boy to wrap his hand around. “So small, so perfect,” he marveled. Suddenly, out of the blue, the heavy wooden door burst open and an out of breath woman with wildly curling black hair raced into the room. “Kady?” Ted asked, surprised by her sudden entrance._

> “Kady’s my fairy godmother!” 
> 
> “Am I telling the story or are you?” 
> 
> “Sorry.”

_“It’s Fogg!” Kady cried out, clutching her side, huffing and out of breath from the exertion of getting to them as quickly as possible. Ted looked at Kady with confusion, and the fairy went on._

_“His gift.” She clarified, “Fogg’s been chosen to give Quentin his gift.”_

_Ted’s stomach sank. The news couldn’t be worse. Fogg was an extremely unstable fairy, almost always giving gifts as likely to kill their recipients as they were to bless them. He had a tendency to show up unshaven, clothes rank with the scent of sweat, breath smelling like a brewery._

_Fogg also had some sort of fascination with squirrels - nearly half of his bestowants were turned into the small and furry woodland animals. Ted was struck with the sudden image of his infant son growing a bushy tail, and he shuddered._

_“We have to hide him,” Ted shouted, pulling his boy close to his chest and placing a quick kiss to his forehead._

_Kady nodded, running her hands through her unruly hair as she looked around the room._

_“Where can we stow an infant?” She hissed, taking a few quick steps over to the closet, throwing the doors open and trying to clear a space inside. “Come on,” she said, shoving blankets to the side, “we can put him in-”_

_But it was too late. The ceiling had already started to shimmer with an unearthly golden glow, indicating a portal opening up from the fairy realm. A moment later they were hit with the strong scent of bourbon and leather, and Fogg dropped into the room with a crash. The intoxicated fairy let out a slight moan._

_Ted clutched his son tightly as Fogg lurched upright, dusting debris and bits of ceiling off of himself and staggering forward. Kady already had her wand out, ready to duke it out with the older fairy, but Ted shook his head at her. Fighting would only make it worse. It would be better for them all if they just took whatever ridiculous gift Fogg decided was fitting for Quentin and got him to leave as quickly as possible._

_“I really need to work on my portals,” Fogg muttered as he pulled a flask from his jacket, taking a long draft. Shoving the flask deep into a pocket, he clapped his hands together. “Now, where is the child?”_

_Fogg looked up, noticing Ted and Kady before him, seemingly for the first time. His eyes zeroed in on the squirming bundle in Ted’s arms._

_“There’s the little tyke,” he cooed, reaching out for him. Ted resisted the urge to turn and run, reminding himself that fighting would only make it worse. He reluctantly let the fairy pry the child away, stepping closer to Kady in case she tried to do anything foolish._

_“Now, let’s have a look at you,” Fogg said, cradling the boy in one arm and using the other to shift away the blanket so that he could get a good look at his face. Tiny brown eyes blinked up at him, wide open with wonder, the small peach mouth hanging open as Quentin took in the sight of the man holding him. Fogg pulled a face at the child, who instantly burst into tears. The sound broke Ted’s heart, and his arms ached to reach out and comfort his son._

_“Oh, no.” Fogg said, wrinkling his nose as he looked at the baby like it was an explosive ready to go off at any second. “That’s no good.”_

_Kady’s hand tightened on her wand. She wasn’t the most affectionate fairy in Frell, but she was fiercely loyal. She couldn’t stomach the idea of another fairy messing with what she considered to be her territory. She wanted this over, and she wanted it over with now._

_“The gift?” she prompted, through gritted teeth._

_“Right, of course.” Fogg shook his head, brow furrowed up. He glared down at the screaming bundle. “Quiet, please, I can’t concentrate.”_

_Quentin just screamed louder. Ted couldn’t bear it in any longer. Fogg didn’t have to hold him to bestow the gift, right? He reached out for his son but the fairy took a stumbling step further away from him, the child still trapped in his arms._

_“God, how can anyone think past all that racket!” Fogg shifted the child higher in his arms so he could look him in the eye. “I have the perfect gift for you,” he told the wailing infant._

_Ted and Kady held their breath as Fogg’s voice boomed through the room, echoing with power._

**_“Quentin of Frell, I give you the gift of obedience!”_ **

_Ted looked at Kady in confusion. Gift of obedience? What did that mean? The shrug she gave him in return showed she didn’t know either._

_“Now,” Fogg said, tucking the child back into the crook of his elbow._ **_“Go to sleep.”_ **

_Quentin immediately fell asleep._

_Father and fairy looked at each other in horror as all the implications of the gift hit them at once. Quentin was cursed to obey. No matter who, no matter what, Quentin would always have to obey a direct order. It wasn’t a gift. It was a curse._

_“And now..._ **_wake up!_** _” Fogg commanded. Quentin’s eyes popped open again, but he stayed quiet this time. The infant seemed just as shocked as his family._

_“No!”_

_The word tore out of Ted’s throat before he could stop it. Fogg turned to look at him, raising a single eyebrow._

_“What do you mean, no?”_

_Kady took a step forward threateningly._

_“He means no!” she spat. “He’s an innocent kid, do you know what you just did to him?”_

_“I gave him a gift,” Fogg countered, his face darkening. Ted was reminded all of a sudden why people only talked about the older fairy in hushed whispers. He was ridiculous, yes, and often drunk, but when angered the fairy could be ruthless and deadly. “If you don’t like it,” he threatened, “I can always turn the child into a squirrel.”_

_Ted reached out for Kady and grabbed her elbow, pulling her back. A cursed child was better than a dead child. He would find a way to protect Quentin. He had to._

_“It’s a wonderful gift,” he placated, trying to appease the fairy. It worked quickly, as Fogg relaxed again and smiled back at the bundle that was still lying quiet in his arms._

_“Of course it is,” he cooed, lifting Quentin up in front of him. “I’ve just given you the perfect child.”_

* * *

“And then I peed on him!” Quentin finished the story, a grin across his face. 

Ted’s body rocked with gentle laughter. “You should have seen his face, Curly Q.” 

“Could my fairy godmother make you all better, Dad?” Quentin asked, his face turned up hopefully. His father pulled him closer.

“What I have,” Ted said, sighing, “well, it’s not something that magic can fix.” 

Quentin felt his throat tighten as he clenched his hands into fists. He was trying to be brave, he really was, but it was hard to be brave when you were terrified. 

“Q, listen to me, no one can find out about the curse, okay? There’s too great a chance of someone using it against you.” Ted ran his fingers through his son's hair. “ **You must never tell anyone.** ”

Q nodded his head, fighting back tears. 

“You’re gonna figure out a way to break it, Curly Q,” Ted said, voice getting weaker with every breath. “And that’s gonna be a glorious day. Only wish I could be there to see it.”

Quentin stopped fighting, letting the tears stream down his face. He tried to control his sobs, gasping in quiet breaths as he clung to his father’s arm. “Please,” he begged softly, “don’t go.” 

Hot tears landed on his head as he realized his dad had also started crying. 

“You’re gonna be okay. You’re so strong, Q.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “What’s inside you is stronger than any spell.” 

Quentin didn’t think so. He didn’t think he was very strong at all, but he didn’t really have a choice anymore. He’d have to figure out how to be strong. He was alone now. 

* * *

Quentin woke up the next morning thinking there was no way that life could go on. And he was right, partly. The sun kept rising and the world kept turning, but something had shifted in Quentin’s mind. Days came and went, and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Colors faded, he lost his appetite, and he would spend countless hours curled up in bed with the windows shut, blocking out the world. 

It wasn’t until Julia came back that things started to get better. The petite Aorthian girl had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. When he had told her at the funeral that he just needed some time alone, she had promised to give him as much time as he needed. He’d lost count of how many days it had been when he heard a gentle knock on his door and a familiar face peeking around it. 

He reached out for her with one hand, still unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Without a word she slipped her shoes off and slid under the covers, tucking herself next to him in the nest of blankets he had made. She opened up a book he hadn’t realized she was carrying. A broken sound escaped him when he saw the cover. _Fillory & Further_. It was a book his father had read to him for years, a favorite bedtime story that he had requested over and over until the book became so worn it was almost falling apart. Julia must have found it on the shelves downstairs. 

She took his hand, squeezing it tight, and began to read. She read chapter after chapter, her voice filling the room. It was like with every word she was chasing away the clouds that had hung over his head for weeks. Halfway through, she claimed she needed water for her throat and came back with two tall glasses. She kept one for herself and made him sip the other while she continued reading. She read until they reached The End and then held him while he cried. When he finally fell asleep still curled around her, he slept through the entire night for the first time since his father died. 

She came back the next day and read the whole book again, and the day after that and the day after that. She kept coming back, reading it over and over and over, and every day Quentin got closer to being okay again. He wasn’t fixed, he didn’t think that was a thing that was possible, but on those days where everything was too much he always had Julia and Fillory. 

And so life went on.

Days turned into weeks turned into months, and Quentin’s world began to resemble normal again. His mother was often gone on trips, and Q hadn’t decided whether he was thankful or sad about that. Cecilia had never been the loving maternal type and Ted’s death had left a vacuum that she didn’t have a clue how to fill. To her credit she would sometimes make an attempt to comfort her son, but it was such a pale shadow compared to Ted that it often left Q feeling even worse than before. Her departures from the house usually left both of them with a sense of relief. Quentin spent his days with Julia and his books and Cecilia went on her trips, and things were a reliable, if boring, status quo. 

Until the day when Cecilia didn’t return alone.

* * *

Quentin was sitting in the window seat, nose buried in a book, when the rattle of carriage wheels on gravel alerted him to his mother’s return. He reluctantly closed the book, tucking a well worn bookmark between the pages. Cecilia would expect him to greet her at the door, playing the part of dutiful doting son. He’d have to listen to her talk about herself for an hour or so until she claimed exhaustion from the journey and retired to her room for a nap, and then they’d go back to ignoring each other until she left again in a few weeks. It was a ridiculous song and dance, but a familiar one. 

He made his way outside, standing awkwardly next to the door, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as the carriage rumbled to a stop in front of the house. The door flew open with a bang and out stepped, not his mother, but quite possibly the ugliest looking woman he’d ever seen. She was wreathed in gaudy fabrics and jewels, and she looked around with an air of haughty judgement, her face puckered up in permanent dissatisfaction. It somehow looked like she had both sucked on a lemon and smelled a fart at the same time. It would have been comical, had she not been looking at Quentin’s house like it was the source of her sourness. 

“I thought you said you lived in a _castle_ ,” she said, disgust dripping from her voice. 

Quentin’s mouth gaped open as he tried to process exactly what was happening. 

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Cecilia corrected as she emerged from the carriage to join Sour Face. “I said a woman’s house _is_ her castle.” 

The woman's face puckered up impossibly further and her gaze fell on Quentin. “And this must be your son,” she said, sounding as delighted to see him as she would to find dog shit on the bottom of her shoe. 

“This is Quentin,” Cecilia said, coming to stand by her son. She reached out to wrap an arm around his shoulders, the movement stilted and unnatural. Q stiffened under her touch. “Quentin, this is Dame Olga. My new...wife.” 

Quentin pulled away with a start. “You got married?” He couldn’t believe it. He knew they weren’t close, but he thought his mother cared enough to at least tell him she was _thinking_ about getting remarried. He cursed himself for being that naive. Now everything was going to change and he could already feel the panic starting to rise. 

“Don’t be rude,” Cecilia hissed at him under her breath, just as two more figures clambered out of the carriage. A boy and a girl, both around his own age.

 _Steb-siblings_ , he thought. _This just keeps getting better._

“Fen! Josh!” Dame Olga barked. “Come say hello to Quincy.”

“Um, it’s Quentin,” he corrected, and then he had a faceful of a very eager young woman. 

“Hi! I’m Fen!” she said, gripping his hand tightly. “I just know we’re going to be best friends.” 

Quentin very much doubted that, but was tactful enough not to say it out loud. Fen kept babbling about something that Q tuned out as he gave her a once over. She was dressed in some ridiculous gown that he couldn’t quite figure out, and had the overall look of something young and flighty. She spoke quickly and with an almost manic energy that was already starting to give Quentin a headache. He decided that she was the type of girl who had had the potential to be quite nice at one point, but had given it up in favor of more energy.

Her brother came up behind her, waving with one hand. “Hey man, I’m Josh.” He was her polar opposite, with a slow and calming voice. 

Quentin’s mouth opened and shut a few times as he tried to get his brain to catch up with the current situation. He glanced over at Cecilia for help but she appeared to be in the middle of a heated discussion with Dame Olga. Q made a sort of garbled noise that he hoped conveyed the message of _“I’m overwhelmed, please help me”_. Cecilia looked in their direction, stopping mid sentence as she realized the three children standing close enough to overhear.

“Quentin, **take Fen and Josh up to your room** ,” she instructed. 

Q stifled a groan at the command. _Not helping!_ he thought. Ted had decided years ago that it was best if Cecilia didn’t know about the curse, and as he had grown older, Quentin couldn’t help but agree with him. However, it did make life more difficult. Normally Cecilia wasn’t around enough to burden him with commands, but if Dame Olga and her children were going to be living here now, who knew what Q’s life was going to become?

Quentin dutifully led his new step-siblings inside and up the stairs to his room. Josh simply took it all in with wide eyes, but Fen made herself quite at home, poking around the room at anything that struck her fancy. 

“Well, isn’t this just so...quaint!” she said. “It’s a little bit old-fashioned, isn’t it? But I suppose you wouldn’t have the latest styles all the way out here, I mean, you’re just _so_ far away from civilization out here.” 

“I, um-” Quentin started, bristling at the implication that Frell was uncivilized, but she paid no attention, talking over him. 

“Will our rooms be the same size? Because if mine is smaller, we might have to switch. I need enough room for all of my Prince Eliot merch.” She scoured the room with a critical eye, as if already imagining how the posters would look on his walls. 

“Fen is president of the Prince El Fanclub,” Josh pointed out. He’d finally ventured into the room, joining his sister in scrutinizing his room. 

“That’s cool,” Quentin said, trying his best to keep his tone even. He’d heard of the ‘Prince El Fanclub’ and he thought it was one of the dumbest, most vapid things he’d ever seen. But he was determined to remain kind and polite, unlike his new housemates. 

“What’s that?” Josh asked, pointing at the book on Quentin’s bed. Q felt his stomach drop. If he had known he was going to have people rifling through his room, he would have hidden that book far away from prying eyes, but it was too late now. 

“Fillory and Further,” Quentin said. He picked up the book, clutching it to his chest protectively. “It’s my favorite book. My dad used to read it to me as a kid.”

“Ooooh, is it a fairy tale?” Fen squealed excitedly. “I love fairy tales! I want to read it!”

Quentin recoiled instinctively. “It’s kinda personal to me,” he protested. 

“Oh come on,” Fen whined, **“give it to me!”**

Quentin’s heart dropped as his arm shot out to hand the book to Fen. Maybe it was stupid but that book felt like the last piece of his dad that he could still hold on to, and now this stranger was going to dig into it like it was a shiny new toy. He wanted to curl up and cry. 

Fen looked pleasantly surprised as she took the book from him, her brow furrowing as she began thumbing through the pages. “Oh it’s really old, look, it’s falling apart!” She turned it upside down and shook it vigorously as a single page detached from the spine and floated to the ground. 

Quentin couldn’t help the pained sound that escaped his mouth at the harsh way she was treating his beloved book. Thankfully neither of his new siblings noticed, as Dame Olga shouted for them at that same moment. Fen and Josh whisked out of the room, taking the book with them and leaving Quentin broken in their wake. 

He took a deep breath and willed himself not to cry. _It’s just a book_ , he told himself, bending down to pick up the discarded page and tuck it carefully into a drawer. _You’ve made it through everything else so far, you’ll make it through this._

He had no way of knowing what was in store.

* * *

_Fen had figured it out._

_Her new stepbrother was very strange, and kind of sweet, but mostly_ **_strange_** _. It had taken her a while to put her finger on what exactly was strange about him, but it had finally clicked._

 _Quentin_ had _to obey a direct command. He couldn’t help it, he was compelled to. She had no idea how or why, but she suspected that magic was involved. It usually was in things like this._

_Now, Fen was a good person. She really was! She wasn’t going to take advantage of another person just because they were forced to obey. Nope, she wasn’t going to do that. Not at all._

_Unless…_

_Well, if it was something Quentin was probably going to do anyway, then it wouldn’t be bad, would it? Or something so teeny tiny small that he wouldn’t even notice? Surely Quentin wouldn’t mind if it was something so insignificant like that. And it wasn’t like she’d do it all the time. Just if it was really super important. Yeah, she was sure that’d be fine._

_Everything was going to be just fine._


	2. a chance meeting

Quentin of Frell was banging his head against a wall. _Literally._ As in actually physically smacking his head into a brick wall, over and over. This was what life with Fen had driven him to. This is who he has become.

“Oh my _god,”_ Julia said, laughing and pulling him away from the wall. “You’ve made your point, you dramatic ass.” 

Q pulled back and rubbed at his sore forehead, pouting. He didn’t feel like he had quite made his point, so he switched to just complaining out loud. “It’s awful, Jules! Fen is everywhere, constantly, all the time, and she’s always bossing me around and making me do stuff. A week ago she made me sharpen all of her knives until they could cut through a unicorn hair. Last night she had me up til three in the morning rehemming her dress so it showed _‘just the right amount of ankle’_ ,” he mocked his step sister's lilting tone. 

“She needs to be told to hem her own damn dress,” Julia advised as they wove their way through the crowded streets of Frell. 

“Trust me, if that was an option, I would’ve done it years ago,” Quentin muttered. He wished for the hundredth time he could just tell Julia about the curse, but his father’s deathbed instruction prevented it. He could only hope she wouldn’t get too suspicious and start asking questions, but so far she hadn’t seemed to notice. “So,” he said, deciding it was time to change the subject, “do you think these things will actually make a difference?” Quentin hoisted up the homemade signs he held in one hand, wiggling them for effect. 

Julia shrugged. “I think there’s about a 12% chance that the prince will even see them, but hey, every little bit counts.” She grabbed his hand and worked her way through the throngs of people in the town square until they made their way forward to the fountain. 

“It looks like the whole freakin’ town showed up,” Quentin grumbled, scrambling up onto the side of the fountain with Julia until they could see over people’s heads to the raised dais at the front of the crowd. 

All of Frell had turned out to catch a glimpse of royalty on their tour of the kingdom. Most people just wanted to see Prince Eliot and his Uncle Martin with their own two eyes. A very loud portion of the populace at the front were sporting Prince Eliot Fan Club pins and seemed to be lingering under the delusion that they were in a contest of sorts where the prize was his hand in marriage. 

And then there was Q and Julia, who were attempting to use the opportunity to shed light on some of King Regent Martin’s questionable political decisions. 

“Shit fuck,” Quentin cursed. He spotted a familiar figure across the square, all garish ribbons and gaudily dyed fabric. “Fen’s here.” 

He nodded to where Fen had elbowed her way to the very front of the crowd, Josh predictably by her side. 

Julia glared in her direction. “You should try to ignore her,” she instructed, taking her sign from Quentin. “If she tries anything, I’ll punch her in her stupid face.” 

Quentin snorted and opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the rolling cheer that rose up from the crowd as an ornate carriage rolled up to the dais. The royals had arrived. 

Townsfolk in the crowd exchanged hushed whispers as they eagerly awaited a glimpse of the royal family. A figure appeared from the royal carriage, and the crowd geared up for a cheer before realizing it was only the Royal Bodyguard. She planted herself on the edge of the platform, hands resting casually on the double axes by her side. Quentin couldn’t help but admire her. Her long, shiny hair was pulled back in braids and a knot on the back of her head, and she carried herself with an air of confidence that often had people mistaking her for royalty herself. Those people soon learned not to underestimate Margo the Destroyer. For as beautiful as she was, she was equally deadly.

Finally the much anticipated moment arrived and Prince Eliot emerged from the carriage. The screams were deafening as the crowd collectively lost their minds. The prince graciously waved and smiled at the people, looking perfectly at ease being the center of such crazed attention. Margo kept a wary eye on everyone from beside him. King Regent Martin materialized behind them, but no one seemed to care about his presence. All eyes were on the prince. 

Q couldn’t help but notice that, even at this distance and after traveling all day, the prince was unnaturally handsome. Eliot had an easy confidence about him that Quentin couldn’t deny was attractive, and his facial features practically screamed royalty. 

_Okay, maybe I sort of understand why he has a fan club_ , Quentin admitted begrudgingly. 

He reminded himself why they had come here and turned to look at Julia. She nodded. It was time. They unfurled their homemade signs, holding them over their heads so they could be clearly seen, and began shouting the words they had painted across the fabric. 

“Say no to ogrecide!” Julia’s voice rang out beside him. 

“Stop the giant land grab!” Quentin’s voice wasn’t quite as strong as hers and it broke on the last word making him sound like a teenager, but he was trying, goddammit. 

People turned, faces squinted up at them in confusion, but they continued. 

“Say no to ogrecide!”

“Stop the giant land grab!”

Now people were _really_ starting to look. Quentin squirmed under their gaze, his hands fisting tightly around the edge of the sign. _It doesn’t matter if people are looking,_ he reminded himself, _that’s the whole point. We want people to know what the King Regent is doing. We want the Prince to change things after his coronation._

He peered over the crowd, trying to see if the royals could even hear them over the throngs of people. The prince looked exactly the same, pointing and waving without a care in the world. Quentin gritted his teeth and yelled louder.

“Say no to ogrecide!” 

“Stop the giant land- _FUCK!”_

Fen had spotted him. He raised the sign in front of his face, trying to block her furious glare. 

“What’s wrong?” Julia asked. He didn’t want to lower the sign so he gestured in the general direction of his angry step sister with his elbow. Julia cursed when she caught sight of her. “Oh, _hell_ no.”

Fen pushed her way through the crowd until she was right in front of them, Josh faithfully following.

“What the hell are you two doing?” she hissed. Quentin shrunk under her anger. “You are _embarrassing_ me in front of the _prince_!” 

Julia scoffed at that. “Like the prince gives a shit about you,” she said. 

Fen’s face clouded over with rage. Josh reached for her arm, making a noble, if futile, attempt to calm her down. 

“C’mon, Fen, it’s fine-” he started, cut off when Fen reached forward and yanked the sign from Quentin’s hands.

“ **Go home** ,” she commanded, “ **now**.”

Julia grabbed the sign back from her, protesting, but it was too late. The curse was already starting to take effect, his feet moving of their own accord. 

“It’s okay, Jules,” he muttered. “I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t look back as he let the curse take him home. He didn’t want to see the betrayed look on her face. 

* * *

Prince Eliot was having a day. 

It had started when Margo had woken him up at some ungodly hour of the morning to continue their kingdom tour.

“Bambi,” he whined, burying his head further into his lush satin traveling pillow. “Have mercy.” 

“Not in my vocabulary,” she quipped as she jerked the covers off him. “Rise and shine, handsome. We gotta be on the road in an hour, and I know how long it takes you to get ready."

“Almost as long as it takes you,” he teased, stretching languidly across the mattress and missing his silk sheets desperately. 

“You don’t rush perfection,” she grinned at him. “Now hurry up.”

He threw the pillow at her retreating form. “Bitch,” he muttered fondly. 

Far too many hours later, and after the longest carriage ride known to man, they had finally arrived at their next destination. Some tiny town in the middle of nowhere called Frell. He gave a sigh, rubbing his temple. He needed a drink. 

“Chin up, buttercup,” Margo squeezed his knee. “It’s showtime.”

She slipped out of the carriage first, always on guard. 

“You shouldn’t let her be so familiar,” a voice chastised. 

Eliot rolled his eyes. “She’s saved my life countless times and has seen all my awkward teenage phases. If Margo can’t be familiar with me, who can?” He gave his uncle a pointed look. 

Martin shrugged, feigning indifference. “Royalty demands respect, and soon you will be King.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Eliot groaned. “I’m not looking forward to actually ruling.” 

“You won’t have to worry about it,” Martin assured him. He had that small grin that he wore sometimes, the one Eliot could never quite seem to figure out. “I’ll take care of it. Just like I take care of everything.” 

A guard knocked on the side of the carriage, signalling it was time for Eliot’s appearance. He schooled his features into the easy, confident smile that was so well practiced he almost believed it himself. _You can do this, Eliot, it’s just an act_ , he reminded himself. _And you’re a damn good actor._

He stepped out into the open air, careful not to squint as the sunlight assaulted him. He took a moment to wave at the crowd as his eyes adjusted enough to be able to see Margo stationed at the edge of the platform. He moved so he was standing within arms reach of her, always feeling more at ease when he was beside his Bambi. 

He smiled and waved and smiled and waved, careful to make eye contact with some of the locals but avoiding looking at the most crazed of the female fans. He heard Martin clear his throat behind him and knew it was time for him to give the pre-written speech. 

He raised his hands to quiet the crowd and one girl took advantage of the silence to call out for his attention. 

“Hey, Prince Eliot!” 

She looked relatively harmless so he graciously nodded at her to continue. 

“Are you a fast runner?” she asked. 

_Well that’s a new one_ , he thought, laughing. “Not particularly, no,” he admitted. 

The girl got an evil glint in her eye, and Eliot instantly realized his mistake. 

_“Get him!”_

Her words sparked an attack and suddenly there was a flood of young women charging the dais, desperate to get a taste, a touch, a whiff, of their precious prince. Eliot barely had time to register what was happening before Margo was in front of him, placing herself and her axes between him and the crowd. 

“Carriage!” she called over her shoulder as the first girl got close enough for her to knock to the ground. 

Eliot glanced at the between Margo and the carriage and made a split second decision that it was nowhere near strong enough to protect him from an army of determined fangirls.

So he ran. 

He leapt over the barricade, long legs carrying him easily to the other side, and took off down the first street he saw. He could hear Martin calling his name behind him, and it gave him a moment of pause, but fuck it, he’d _committed_ to this. Eliot would be damned if he wasn’t going to see it through. 

He moved on instinct, skirting around corners and heading in the direction he remembered led out of town. He flew past people, mostly common villagers who seemed confused by this lanky figure running through the streets in clothes of velvet and silk. Eliot collided with a man crossing an alley and yelled out an apology as he kept running. He was struck by the sudden realization that this was the closest he’d been to the commoners in years. 

The cobblestone roads turned to dirt paths beneath his feet and his strides got longer and slower as he settled into a rhythm. _When was the last time I ran like this?_ His lungs burned and his muscles ached, but it felt _good_. Eliot felt laughter bubbling up in his chest and let it out. _What the hell, why not?_ There was no one here to lecture him about decorum. He let himself run, and laugh, and enjoy the fleeting feeling of freedom.

He knew he was probably far enough away from the crowd that the mob of hormonal people wouldn't find him, but he didn’t want to stop. In fact he had half a mind to keep running until he got all the way back to the capital, but then he flew around a bend in the path and ran directly into someone. 

The stranger let out an _oof_ and they tumbled to the ground together, a tangle of arms and legs. Eliot couldn’t help the laughter that was bursting out of him in between gulps of air. It was just so ridiculous, the whole scenario. 

“Sorry, sorry,” the stranger's voice came from somewhere at his elbow. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Eliot chuckled. “I ran into you.” 

It took a moment, but he was finally able to sort out which limbs were his and which belonged to...possibly the cutest man he’d ever laid eyes on. All puppy dog eyes and long brown hair trapped back in a bun. A single lock of that hair had fallen into the face of the stranger and Eliot was struck with the mad desire to reach out and tuck it back behind his cute shell of an ear.

_Oh, shit._

* * *

Quentin was walking home in a huff, kicking at rocks and muttering under his breath as he reached the outskirts of town. He had just started to really pick up steam with his pity party when he got knocked to the ground by a stranger running up from behind him. He hit the ground hard, gasping for air with lungs that were trying hard to remember they were lungs. Whoever had run into him was laughing. 

Quentin finally got enough air to stammer out an apology. He was already trying to figure out how to get away from this person with the least amount of social interaction. 

“Don’t be sorry. I ran into you.” 

The stranger's voice sounded familiar, but Quentin couldn’t place where he knew it from. He extricated himself from the tangled mess they had been on the ground and fell back onto his ass. _Apologize again and leave,_ he instructed himself, _before he has time to give you a command._

“I’m-” he started, glancing up at the person studying him, and stopped short. 

It was the prince. Prince Eliot was sitting in the dirt with him. He was looking at Prince Eliot. 

Quentin tried desperately to get his brain working again. The prince was saying something. 

“Are you alright?” Eliot asked. He was stretched across the ground, lounging against the dirt like it was a velvet cushion. “I’m afraid I was in quite the rush to get away from some rabid fans.” 

Quentin gaped at him. Maybe it was stupid, but he had almost forgotten that the prince was an actual, real person, and now here he was in front of him being so...well, _real_. His cheeks were flushed and in general he was far less perfectly styled than Quentin was familiar with, from the portraits that Fen kept plastered across every flat surface her mother would allow.

Quentin might have been staring, just a bit, but, to be fair, the prince seemed to be staring back as well. After a long moment, the prince clapped his hands together and began speaking once more.

“How rude of me! I haven’t introduced myself.” Eliot leapt gracefully to his feet, extending a hand down to help Quentin up. 

Q let him, placing his hand in the prince’s. Eliot’s hand was warm and big, pulling him to his feet and steadying him at the same time. He kept hold of it, even after Quentin was standing, and bowed over it. 

“I’m Prince Eliot,” he said, looking up at Quentin through long eyelashes. 

Quentin was dumbstruck, and he might have even fallen for it if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of the cocky grin Eliot was wearing. _Of course._ This was Prince Eliot. Charming, charismatic, capricious Prince Eliot. _Him being ‘real’ doesn’t change the fact that he’s still the same spoiled prince that’s allowing his uncle’s horrible regime._

Quentin yanked his hands out of Eliot’s grasp. 

“I’m not going to bow,” he blurted out. Eliot’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Quentin spun on his heels and started walking away, cursing himself. He’d let this go on for far too long, it was time to get the hell out of there. Eliot recovered quickly, however, and with his ridiculously long legs he soon caught up to Q. 

“You can bow or not, that’s your choice,” Eliot said, keeping pace with him. “There’s really nothing I can do about it.” The prince looked at him, and smiled before adding, “except have you beheaded but that seems a bit extreme.”

Quentin let out a huff of laughter involuntarily and tried to disguise it as a cough. _There’s a reason they call him Prince Charming_ , he thought, begrudgingly. _But being charming doesn’t give him a free pass to be a shit ruler._

Quentin stopped walking. “Why don’t you do what your people usually do,” he scathed, trying not to get distracted by the prince’s eyes, “steal my land and destroy my livelihood.” He turned to walk away again. 

**“Wait!”**

Quentin’s feet stopped of their own accord. 

**“Come back here.”**

_Goddammit._ Quentin ground his teeth together, resisting as long as he could before returning to stand in front of the prince. 

“What is your name?” Eliot asked. He was looking at Quentin like he was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. Quentin squirmed under his gaze. 

“Quentin,” he said quietly, “of Frell.” 

Eliot tilted his head, giving the smaller man a long look from head to toe, that Quentin was sure usually had women weak in the knees for him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Well, Quentin of Frell,” he said with a coy smile, “you’re the first person I’ve met who hasn’t swooned at the sight of me.” 

Quentin stared up at Eliot in disbelief. “Then maybe I’ve done you some good,” he scoffed. 

He tried to walk away again, giving a small sigh of relief when the curse let him. He quickened his pace as he heard the prince following after him

“You are a unique individual, Quentin of Frell,” he said as he caught up to Q’s side. “And for the record, I’ve never stolen anyone’s land or livelihood.”

“Um-?” Quentin scoffed, “The Giants? So what, they-they just enslaved themselves?” 

Eliot slowed briefly, his brow furrowing. “The Giants aren’t enslaved.” 

Quentin glanced at the prince out of the corner of his eye. He sounded genuinely confused. _But that’s impossible,_ Q thought, _the prince can’t be_ _that_ _ignorant._

“Listen, this has been great, but I really have to-,” he started making his excuses to leave, reaching to fiddle with his bag nervously. His bag which was not there. He let out a long groan. 

“What’s wrong?” Eliot was at his side instantly, worried. His hand reached out, as if to steady him, and Quentin smacked it away. 

“My bag is gone,” he explained, irritated. “I must have dropped it when you ran into me.” 

“I’ll run back and get it,” Eliot offered eagerly. He seemed determined to prove himself. **“Wait right there.”**

“Wait, no!” Quentin called out, but it was too late. Eliot was gone and Quentin was frozen in place. He let out a frustrated cry, scrubbing his face with his hands. It had been a very long day already and it wasn’t even noon. He just wanted to go home and collapse into bed.

A sound in the distance made him look up. _No, no, no, please no,_ he thought desperately, hoping it wasn’t what it sounded like. 

It was. 

A carriage was coming towards him, barreling along at top speed, headed straight for him with no intentions of stopping. He tried to take a step, but it was like his feet had been cemented to the ground. He had been ordered to wait _right there_ and the curse was not about to let him move, not even in the face of certain death. 

Panic started rising in him. _This is it. This is how I die._ He waved his arms frantically, trying to alert the driver of the carriage. Maybe Eliot was still close enough he’d hear him?

“Prince Eliot!” he cried, willing his voice to carry through the forest. _I always knew this curse would be the death of me._ The carriage thundered closer. It was almost on top of him. 

“Eliot!” 

_I didn’t get to say goodbye to Julia._

“Quentin! **Move!** ” 

The command was unnecessary because in the next breath Eliot was slamming into Quentin, physically knocking both of them out of the way a moment before the carriage careened past them.

Q gasped for air, doing a mental check of all of his limbs to make sure they were all there. _And this is why I don’t leave the house._

“What the hell were you thinking?” Eliot asked, sounding extremely exasperated. He moved to sit up next to Q, reaching out as though to touch him. “You could have been killed!” 

“I-I was going to move,” Quentin stammered out, slapping away the prince’s hand, “had you not knocked me to the ground! That’s the second time you’ve done that, you realize?” He attempted to get to his feet as gracefully as he could manage, which was not much.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eliot’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll try and be more considerate next time I’m saving you.” From where he sat on the ground, Eliot held out Quentin’s bag from with a flourish, presenting it as though it were a crown jewel.

Quentin stared at him and reached out absentmindedly to grab his satchel. _Next time?_ His brain was spinning. As if the legendary ‘Prince Charming’ would voluntarily spend time with a commoner who openly despised him. Quentin wasn’t an idiot. 

“What makes you think we’ll see each other again?” he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

“Won’t we?”

Eliot’s voice sounded so hopeful, it stopped Quentin in his tracks. He glanced down to where the prince was looking up at him. His curls had fallen out of their perfect coif and his eyes were open and honest. Q was struck by how young he looked. The question echoed in his head. _Won’t we see each other again?_

Thankfully, Quentin was spared from having to come up with an answer by the arrival of Fen and Josh.

“Quentin?” Her shrill voice matched the pinched look on her face. “What are you doing?” 

Q backed away from the prince, stumbling on the uneven ground. “I’m-I was just heading home,” he mumbled. 

Eliot leapt to his feet, charming smile plastered back on his face. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid that was my fault,” he explained, stepping towards Fen. Quentin wondered if he realized he was putting himself between them. “I ran into Quentin and commandeered far too much of his time. I apologize.” 

Fen’s giggles bordered on hysterical as she fawned over the prince. “You don’t want to talk to Quentin, he’s so boring,” she simpered. “ _I’m_ your biggest fan.” 

Eliot gave a nervous chuckle and took a small step backwards. “I’m sure,” he assuaged, “now if you’ll excuse me, I-”

“I’m the president of your fan club,” Fen said, stepping closer to close the distance. Her words were coming out all rushed as she practically threw herself at the prince. “I know absolutely _everything_ about you.”

Quentin didn't really know why he felt such a strong desire to protect the prince. _It only serves him right_ , he thought, _if he wants to act like a rockstar, he can deal with the rabid fans._ But still. Nobody deserved _Fen_. 

“Fen, come on,” he sighed. “Let’s just go.” 

She turned to look at him, her icy glare boring into him. 

“Quentin, Josh,” she said, her words forced through gritted teeth, “I think it’s time you guys went home.” 

“What? But we-,” Josh began, but then seemed to finally grasp what was going on. “Ohhhh, yeah alright, time to go.” 

He turned and started walking home, but Q hesitated. He met Eliot’s eyes and the prince looked, well, scared wasn’t the right word, Quentin doubted the prince ever got scared, but he looked like he wanted Q to stay. _He probably just wants me to save him from Fen_ , he reasoned. _I can’t blame him, she’s a lot_. And she hadn’t given him a direct command yet. Quentin opened his mouth to try and reason with her again, but she beat him to it. 

“Quentin,” she practically growled under her breath. “ **Run home now.** ” 

_Damn it._

“Sorry,” he mumbled over her shoulder at Eliot as he turned and started running. Even if the prince had been serious about wanting to see him again earlier, there was no way he would still want to after being left alone with Fen. 

Quentin spent the whole run home trying to figure out why that bothered him so much. 


	3. a breaking point

Fen was up to something, and Quentin just knew that it was not going to end well. 

After running the whole way home thanks to Fen’s command, he had been surprised to see her arrive not that long after him. She had glared at him as she stomped through the front door, face clouded with anger. He quickly slunk away to his room, hoping to avoid the inevitable confrontation until she had calmed down a bit. _What happened that made her so mad?_

He waited for her to bring it up at dinner, but she never mentioned the encounter at all. In fact, she was quiet all evening, her usual chatter conspicuously missing. Even Olga noticed the silence, asking if she was feeling ill. Fen just shook her head. Q wasn’t sure which was worse, the palpable anger from earlier or this calculating calm. 

The next day Fen seemed in a good mood and suggested they all go shopping in the town square together. Quentin knew it was just wishful thinking to believe that it was all over and he’d somehow escaped Fen’s drama. And so he had reluctantly agreed, not that he had much of a choice in the matter, and waited for the other shoe to drop. 

Quentin trailed behind his step-family as they made their way through the streets of Frell. He told himself to stop worrying about Fen, and his thoughts involuntarily fell back on the prince. _Eliot_. Q couldn’t help marveling that the prince wasn’t what he’d thought he’d be. Yes, he was charming and ignorant, but he was also shockingly sincere. And he either honestly wanted to see Quentin again, or he was the best actor in the world. 

_“Won’t we?” the prince asked, looking up at him with those big, beautiful, hazel eyes. “Tell_ _  
__me I get to see you again. You can yell at me some more about my uncle’s policies and then_ _  
__I’ll sweep you off your feet with my large and surprisingly soft hands and---”_

“Quentin!” Dame Olga shrieked. “Keep up!” 

Quentin shook the thoughts out of his head and sprinted to catch up. _Stop thinking like that_ , he scolded himself. _You’re not gonna see him again. Probably. I mean, do you even_ _want_ _to see him again?_

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the way Fen was glaring at him until Olga disappeared into a shop, leaving him alone in the street with his step siblings. _Shit fuck._ He was about to find out whatever she’d spent all night planning. 

“Josh,” Fen may have been addressing her brother, but she looked at Quentin the whole time. Her voice was sickly sweet, betraying the calculating look in her eye. “Have you ever noticed how Quentin is...special?” 

_No_.

Q felt his stomach drop. 

“Special how?” Josh asked, distracted by something shiny in a shop window. 

“Well I’m not entirely sure how,” Fen admitted, a little flustered, “but Quentin _has_ to obey a command. He can’t help it.” 

_No, no, no, how does she know, how did she figure it out?_ Q felt the wave of panic rising in his chest.

Josh was looking at him curiously. “Wait, actually?” he asked, fascinated. “ **Touch your nose.** ” 

Immediately, Quentin’s finger shot up to touch the tip of his nose. 

“No way!” Josh laughed. “That’s crazy.” 

“Guys, come on,” he pleaded, finger still on his nose. Was this Fen’s punishment? Adding Josh to his list of tormentors? Q wasn’t exactly friends with Josh, but he trusted him to be less demanding than his sister, so there had to be more to it than this. 

Sure enough, Fen started stalking towards him like she was cornering her prey. “I don’t know what you said to the prince about me-”

“I didn’t say anything,” Quentin objected. 

“-but whatever it was, it might have cost me my one chance with him.” She crossed her arms, her back as stiff as a board. “Now I think it’s only fair that since you ruined my chances, I get to ruin yours.”

Quentin swallowed hard. _No more Prince Eliot._ That was his punishment. He was caught between being sad that whatever slim hope he was still holding onto about the prince was gone, and being grateful that it wasn’t something worse. 

“ **Quentin, I command you-** ,” 

Fen’s voice cut off abruptly as the door to the shop opened and Dame Olga rejoined them outside. Q let out a relieved sigh. He wasn’t foolish enough to think he had escaped the worst of it, only delayed it for a bit. Olga’s brow furrowed as she noticed the tense air between the siblings.

“What are you all doing just staring at each other?” Olga asked, looking between them angrily. 

“Quentin’s being ungrateful again,” Fen hissed. 

“Of course he is,” Olga spat, glaring at her step-son in disdain. “I have just about had it with your spoiled behavior, after everything I’ve done for you.” 

Quentin bit his tongue. He knew from experience there was no use trying to argue with Olga when she was in one of her moods. Pointing out that his step-mother actually hadn’t done _anything_ for him except use him as a personal slave only made things worse. A familiar voice carried across the square, and he looked up hopefully.

Julia was outside one of the shops, talking with the shopkeeper, her face open and bright. Q desperately hoped she didn’t turn around, he didn’t want Julia dragged into his family drama. He knew she’d defend him without a second thought and it would just make Olga even more furious. 

“That’s your little _friend_ , isn’t it?” Dame Olga’s voice dripped with vitriol. “I have no doubt she’s the one behind your attitude problem.” 

Quentin felt his blood turn to ice as Olga’s hatred shifted from him to his best friend. He stammered out a protest, but it was too late. Olga had made up her mind. 

“Well I, for one, have had enough of it,” Olga snapped. “ **Go over there and tell her you won’t be her friend anymore.** ” 

Quentin couldn’t breathe. _This was it._ This was the moment he had dreaded his whole life, when the curse would force him to do something unbearable. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t.

Olga noticed his hesitation and continued. “ **Tell her you could never be friends with an Aorthian, and tell her you never want to see her again.** ” 

The all too familiar feeling began to lurch behind his stomach. He had experimented once to see how long he could resist a command and he had ended up dry heaving and covered in sweat before he gave in. He knew how this would end. The curse wouldn’t release until he said the words. 

He stumbled forward, Olga’s stare burning a hole in his back. His brain couldn’t seem to process what was happening besides repeating, _no, I’m gonna lose her, no, NO._

Each step forward sounded like thunder in his ears. His face was burning and it wasn’t until he reached up to touch his cheek that he realized he was crying. His breath started coming hard and fast. He knew he was panicking but there was nothing he could do to stop it. All he could think about was how he was about to lose the only family he had left. 

Julia looked up and finally noticed his approach, smiling up at him. “Q! You’re not gonna believe what happened after you left yesterday.” Her voice trailed off as she noticed the tears running his face. “Quentin, what’s wrong?” 

Something inside Quentin broke at the level of concern in her voice. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do it. _He had no choice_. He tried to hold the words in, tried to stop the curse, but the lurch in his stomach told him it was no use. He wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to physically hold the horrible things inside. To his horror, his mouth opened and the words forced their way out of his throat. 

“I won’t be your friend anymore.” The words came out as a hoarse whisper, wet with tears. 

Julia’s forehead wrinkled up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I could never be friends with an Aorthian.” 

Julia took a step back, the shock and hurt clearly evident on her face. _I hate this, I hate this, I hate this._ Julia was his family and she should have never had to hear those words from him. His breaths started coming faster and faster. He couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t watch her be hurt anymore, he had to get out of there. 

“I never want to see you again,” he forced out in between heaving sobs. “I’m sorry.” 

Quentin turned and ran. 

* * *

It was close to midnight before Quentin felt like he had run out of tears. He had locked himself in his room as soon as he got home, ignoring the way his step-family had banged on the door, burying his face into his pillows and letting the tears fall. It felt like everything that had been building up since that day when his new family rolled up to his house in their awful carriage was finally being released. He cried for hours, until there was nothing left inside him to let out. He cried until he felt empty and, surprisingly, _free_. 

He rolled over and stared at his room with stinging eyes. _This was it_. This was the rock-bottom, absolute worst, unthinkable thing that he had always known one day his curse would make him do. He couldn’t help but feel a twisted sort of relief that it had finally happened and he didn’t have to dread it anymore. If this was rock bottom, he could only go up from here, right? But he didn’t want things to go up and go right back to the way things had been. He could hear his father’s voice in his head. _“Alright, so something’s wrong. Are you just going to stare at it and watch it be wrong or are you going to do something about it?”_ Quentin sighed. _Dad’s right, I have to do something._ He sat up in bed, scrubbing at his face with his hands, and wracking his brain trying to think of what he could possibly do. 

Suddenly, the ceiling started glowing. Quentin could say with absolute certainty that was the first time that had happened. He was so dumbfounded he could only stare as it started swirling and sparking and the glow got brighter and brighter. Then, with a loud _pop!_ a figure fell through the swirling, sparking glow on his ceiling and into his room, landing with cat-like reflexes on its feet.

“AHH!” Quentin shrieked, clutching a pillow to his chest protectively. 

The figure straightened up, dusting herself off briskly. It was a girl about Quentin’s age, with wild dark curly hair and a look that could kill. And biceps that could kill. And thighs that could kill. In fact, everything about her just kinda screamed _“I’m here to kick your ass”_.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, frantically. He considered asking _“are you here to kill me?”_ but he didn’t think she was. He wasn’t sure about the proper protocol of professional assassins, but he was fairly certain they didn’t drop through ceilings. Also if she was here to kill him, wouldn’t she have done it already? 

The girl gave him a frustrated look. “Who the hell am I?” she parrotted back sarcastically. “I’m your fucking fairy godmother.” 

Quentin didn’t quite know how to respond to that. _This was the Kady from the stories?_ He’d heard about his fairy godmother, of course, but he had no memories of her himself so he’d had to come up with his own idea of what she looked like. He’d always pictured someone a little more… well, older.

“Shouldn’t you be older?” he blurted out. 

She rolled her eyes. “Fairy blood, kid. Trust me, I’m older than I look.”

“What are you…how did…” Quentin didn’t know where to start. He had so many questions and they were all fighting for priority. “Was that a portal?” he gestured at the ceiling. 

“That doesn’t matter,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. She stepped forward, gripping his shoulders seriously. “Quentin, I figured out how to lift the curse.”

Everything stopped for a second and then Quentin’s heart started pounding double time. _This was it._ This was what he’d been waiting for. He could finally be free of the awful curse once and for all. 

_Crack!_ At the sound of a tree branch snapping outside, Kady whirled around defensively just as a body tumbled through the open window, landing on the floor with a _thump_. She had her hands outstretched, magic already gathering around them to attack, when the figure untangled its limbs and stood up, muttering curses the entire time. 

“Julia!” Quentin cried out in recognition, rushing to her side. Kady and the curse were momentarily forgotten in his desperation to apologize and explain. “I’m so sorry, Jules. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean any of it, it wasn’t even me it was…”

His words stuck in his throat like a trap. Of course. The promise he made to his dad. How was he going to get Julia to believe him if he couldn’t tell her about-

“Your curse of obedience.” Julia nodded firmly, as if Q had just confirmed her suspicions. “It’s okay, I figured someone had ordered you to say all that shit. I’d bet anything it was Olga.” 

Quentin’s eyes bugged out. “You _know_?!” 

Julia grinned, reaching out to tuck a loose hair behind his ear. “Q, we’ve been friends since we were six. When was the last time I gave you a direct order?”

Quentin thought back, and realized that she never did. It was always _“can you-”_ or _“will you-”_ or _“do you mind-”_. 

“Oh.” 

_Of course she knew_. Julia was the smartest person he knew, of course she would have figured the curse out. He was an idiot for not realizing it sooner. He couldn’t help but return the grin she was giving him. 

“Not to kill the moment,” Kady’s voice interrupted, “but can we get back to business here?” 

Julia noticed Kady for the first time, her eyes growing huge. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m his fairy godmother.”

“You’re Kady?” Julia gave her a once-over. “Shouldn’t you be older?” 

Kady let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to try and stave off a headache. “This is why I avoid humans,” she muttered through gritted teeth. 

“Fairy blood,” Quentin explained. “She says she figured out how to lift the curse.”

Julia’s mouth fell open as things clicked into place. “That’s why you’ve been gone all this time,” she said to Kady, then turned to Quentin. “You never would say why she left.” 

Quentin winced apologetically. “I couldn’t,” he explained. “When my dad passed, he made me promise never to tell anyone about th-” his voice cut off again against his will. 

“The curse,” Julia finished with a nod. “I thought you just didn’t trust me.” 

“Jules, no!” Quentin reached for her, twining their fingers together. “You’re my family. I trust you more than anything.” 

Julia smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly, and something that had been tightening in his chest since those awful words earlier in the square unfurled and he could breathe again.

“Can we have this moving discussion while we pack, perhaps?” Kady said, motioning towards the door. “We need to get going before I lose his location again.” 

“Going?” Quentin asked, confused. 

“Who’s location?” Julia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“We’re going to Giantsville to find the fairy who gave Quentin the curse,” Kady explained. “Only the fairy who gave the gift can remove it, and we have to petition him directly.” 

“The _recipient_ must petition,” a male voice rang through the room. “Wording is important, babe.”

“Who’s there?” Julia cried out as Quentin gave a yelp and spun around, trying to find the source of the voice. 

“Will you two calm down?” Kady hissed. She swung a backpack off her shoulders, reaching into it and pulling out a giant tome. She propped it up on top of the dresser so that it could look out into the room. On the front cover, instead of an illustration there was a frame surrounding a shimmering see-through film, and behind the film there was a person. A striking tanned face looked out of the book, a cocky smile across his face. 

“Penny Adiyodi, at your service.” 

“The book has a face.” Quentin said. He felt it was important to say it out loud, just because maybe then he would believe it. Shit, he really was having a very eventful day. 

“I got a whole body too, baby,” the handsome face winked. 

“Stop flirting,” Kady said, smacking the spine of the book. “This is Penny. He’s my boyfriend. It’s a long story.” 

“You’re dating a book?” Julia asked, delighted. Q thought she was enjoying this way too much for the current situation. 

“I wasn’t always a book,” Penny explained. “I used to be human, still am technically, but a few years ago Kady was trying a spell and it went a little sideways. Now my soul is trapped in this book.” 

“Staying on topic,” Kady interrupted, pointing a finger at the group, “I know how to lift the curse. But we have to go. Now.” 

“Right, okay,” Quentin muttered to himself as he started throwing clothes in a rucksack. “Jules, we can swing by your house on the way so you can pack…” he trailed off as he realized he had just assumed she was coming too. She hadn’t said anything yet. 

He looked up at her with wide eyes. “I mean, you don’t have to, it’s a long way, and it’s not like the curse is even your problem, really, so I-I get it if you just wanna-” 

Julia cut him off. “Q, I’m coming,” she said. “First of all, you’re my best friend, of course I’m coming. Secondly, this is probably one of the most exciting things that’s ever going to happen to me, no way in _hell_ am I missing out on this adventure.” 

Q let out a relieved laugh. “Okay, then.” 

“Alright,” Kady said, clapping her hands. “Let’s go to Giantville.” 


	4. an unlikely alliance

It didn’t take long for the group to fall into a rhythm as they travelled through the forest. Kady took the lead, mostly because she was the one who knew where they were going and also because if someone was going to encounter danger first, they all agreed it should be the fairy. Quentin stayed in the middle, because if they let him fall to the back he started jumping at every noise he heard behind him. Which left Julia to take up the rear. 

They took turns carrying Penny. He had started protesting loudly when Kady went to stuff him back in her backpack, insisting that since the entire group knew about him there was no reason to hide him away. After making him swear to disappear from the cover if they ran into anyone on the road, Kady finally relented. He was currently happily nestled in Julia’s arms, as they had an animated discussion about magic and spell wording. 

“So...Giantsville,” Quentin said, speeding up to keep pace alongside Kady. “How do you know that’s where Fogg is?” 

“I ran a locator spell on him right before I portaled to you,” she explained. “Took the last of my spell ingredients though, so we have to get to him before he moves on. If we lose him again, I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get all the stuff for another spell.” 

“Right, okay,” Quentin nodded his head, thinking through the basis of a plan. “Do you have any money? Maybe we could buy some horses at the next town or-” 

_Kreee!_ A high pitched piercing noise cut through the air, stopping the party in their tracks. 

“What the hell was that?” Quentin asked, his eyes wide in alarm. 

“Probably something that wants to eat us,” Penny quipped from near Julia’s elbow. 

“Shh,” Kady shushed the group with a motion, scanning the forest for any signs of life. The sound came again, loud enough to make out that it was human and distressed. “ **Stay behind me** ,” she instructed.

Quentin’s body immediately lurched backwards, yanked by the curse, and he stumbled trying not to land on his ass. Penny’s laughter echoed through the forest.

“Oh, that’s one fast acting curse,” he snickered. Julia shushed him but she also had a smile on her face. Q glared at her. 

“Right, um,” Kady paused as she assessed the situation. “ **Don’t stay behind me.** ” 

Quentin’s body lurched in the opposite direction this time, pushing him forward until he stopped himself by bracing against a tree. “That was another order,” he hissed through gritted teeth. 

Julia and Penny were both laughing now. _Traitors_. 

“Shit, fuck,” Kady looked lost. “Okay, uh, **do what you want**.” 

Quentin relaxed as he felt the effects of the last order leave. “Can we avoid that in the future?” he asked, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt. 

Julia stepped forward, placing a hand on his back comfortingly. “You just gotta be careful with wording,” she explained to Kady. “Try and make sure to start with ‘can you-’ or ‘will you-’. Trust me, I’ve been doing this for years, once you get used to it, it becomes second nature.” 

Kady gave the shorter woman a glare, like that was the last thing in the world she wanted to be doing.

“Don’t be a baby,” Julia said, rolling her eyes. “Come on, give it a try."

Penny snickered from his vantage point in Julia's arms. Kady’s glare swung between the two of them, like she couldn’t decide who she was more mad at. She balled her fists up at her side, but they didn’t swing. “ _Can_ you stay behind me,” she finally bit out. 

“Of course we can,” Julia chirped, her smile beaming at the surly fairy as they all fell into line behind her. 

The group snuck through the trees as silently as they could until they came upon the source of the noise. A group of ruffians had captured a young elf, and now had her tied to a giant wheel. One was spinning it around while the other two threw knives at the wheel. She hadn’t been hit yet, but judging by how inebriated the ruffians were, it wouldn’t be long before she inevitably got injured. 

“We have to help her,” Quentin whispered. 

“We will, but I need you guys to stay out of the way,” Kady answered in hushed tones, “I’m going to-”

“Let her go!” Julia yelled, running in between the men and the wheel. 

Kady let out a string of curses, running after Julia, Quentin close behind her. The thugs seemed to be a bit disoriented, trying to figure out where this group of people had suddenly appeared from. 

“You’ve had your fun, now let the elf go,” Kady said, folding her arms.

The tallest ruffian squinted at her, giving her a once over. The other two thugs seemed frozen, waiting to see what their leader did.

“Oh yeah?” he sneered. “What are you gonna do about it, princess?” He spat on the ground in contempt. 

Quentin raced through ideas, desperate to somehow get them all out of this situation safely. He knew he wouldn’t be any good in a fight, but maybe they could intimidate them enough to get them to leave. 

“I think it’s only fair to warn you,” Quentin said, trying his hardest to sound threatening, “that she’s trained in the ancient art of…” _fuck, what’s the name of that martial art?_ “…origami.” He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. _That wasn’t it_.

“Quentin,” Kady hissed under her breath, “can you _please_ stop helping me?”

The ruffians looked between each other, weighing their chances of beating this ragtag group of humans. There was a brief moment where Q thought they might have avoided conflict, and then all three men charged. 

Before Quentin even had time to panic, powerful battle magic was blasting from Kady’s hands, knocking the thugs off their feet. The fairy’s fingers twirled in complicated tuts, as she spun around, sending spell after spell at the attackers. It seemed like the fight was over as soon as it began, leaving Kady standing victorious over three groaning forms on the ground. 

“Holy shit,” Julia whispered in awe. 

“Can someone untie me now, please?”

The frustrated voice came from the direction of the still spinning wheel. Quentin rushed to help the elf, helping her down and steadying her as she stood on shaky legs. Now that she was off the wheel, Quentin noticed how short the elf really was. She barely reached his shoulders. 

“Sorry about that,” he apologized. “Are you alright?” 

“I’ve been better,” she snipped, but her face softened when she saw Quentin’s concerned look. “I’m fine, thank you.” 

Julia and Kady finished tying up the rogues and joined them. 

“What were you doing in the woods by yourself?” Kady asked, giving the short elf a once over. 

“I fail to see how that’s any of your business,” the girl bristled. 

“Okay, can we pause the interrogation?” Julia said, laying a hand on Kady’s arm and giving her a pointed look. “Let’s back up a bit. Hi, I’m Julia.”

She extended her hand to the elf, who took it after a brief pause. 

“Alice of Pim,” she introduced herself with a short nod. “It appears I’m in your debt.” 

“Oh no, it’s really no problem,” Quentin protested. 

“No, I can’t stand owing people,” Alice insisted, looking at Quentin. “ **Let me buy you dinner.** ”

_Shit fuck._ A command. Quentin looked at the others helplessly. Kady sighed and looked to the sky, as if it would hold the answers as to why her life was this difficult. Julia just grinned. 

“Dinner sounds great!” 

* * *

Fen was unbelievably, inconceivably bored. 

Apparently, without Quentin around to boss around and bother, there wasn’t a lot to do at home. She’d tried to get Josh to make a ‘President of Prince El’s Fenclub’ poster for her room, but he had just waved her off and gone back to baking banana bread.

Her last resort had been to throw herself on the window seat and sigh dramatically, but no one had come to ask her what was wrong, so really she was at the end of her rope. She perked up at the sound of the mail carrier dropping a bundle of letters at the door. She quickly snatched them up, leafing through them and finding nothing interesting until she got to the very last letter. It was addressed to ‘Quentin of Frell’ and the envelope was thick and expensive. 

Whoever had sent it obviously didn’t know that Quentin had left. Fen considered the envelope as she puzzled out what to do. _Well, I suppose it’s only right to open it,_ she decided, _just so I can find out who sent it and tell them that Quentin left._ Satisfied, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a gilded piece of paper with fancy flowing script written across it. 

A Cordial Invitation to

**The Prince’s Ball**

at the Royal Castle in LaMea

Fen let out a loud squeal. This was her chance! She would finally be able to win over the prince once and for all, and take her rightful place as his bride. _It’s not like Quentin will have much use for this, wherever he is._ There was no name on the fancy invitation, so there was nothing stopping her from using it for herself. She grinned in satisfaction. Prince Eliot was as good as hers. 

* * *

Alice led them through the town of Pent towards the local pub. Pent was in the heart of the Forest of Pim, and it was inhabited entirely by elfs. As they made their way through the town, groups of performers and entertainers lined the streets, practicing their trade and begging to perform for the travelers. Alice gave them all deadly glares and herded the group towards the pub. 

Even the pub was filled with various singing and dancing groups. They filled the stage and wove their way through the patrons, serenading anyone who seemed willing. One such group made its way to the table that the group had just sat claimed, but Alice held up her hand before they could begin. 

“If you so much as sing a single note,” she hissed, “I will personally make sure you get reported for harassment.” 

The quartet of singers quickly made themselves scarce. Quentin slid onto the bench beside Alice. Julia and Kady took the other side, laying Penny down at the edge of the table. Q saw Kady give the spine a firm squeeze and he hoped Penny had enough sense to remain hidden.

“Stupid fucking singers,” Alice muttered under her breath. “Music every goddamn day and night, never giving anyone a moment’s peace. Some people would like to eat in silence, you know?” The last part was directed over her shoulder at the band that was playing on stage, who remained blissfully unaware of their heckler.

“Why don’t you like music?” Quentin asked, turning to Alice. He’d seen people indifferent to music before, but never someone with as much blatant hatred for it as the blond elf. 

“Oh, that’s right,” Alice snapped, “I should be full of song at all times. Elves are supposed to be eternally happy and joyful!” 

“You’re a very angry person,” Kady remarked, raising one eyebrow at the elf. 

“You would be too if your only career options were singing or dancing,” Alice said. “I don’t want to be an entertainer.” 

“What do you want to be?” Julia asked, curiously. 

Alice peered over her glasses at the group, as if judging whether or not she could trust them. She finally cleared her throat, folding her hands primly in her lap. “I want to be a lawyer.”

“I’m guessing that would be in small claims court.” Penny’s voice was muffled, coming from the tome at the edge of the table, but even over the noise of the pub, he was audible nonetheless. Alice’s head whirled around, trying to find the source of the voice. 

“I don’t understand,” Kady said loudly, subtly laying her napkin over the book. “Why can’t you be a lawyer?”

“The elfen restriction Sir Martin passed,” Quentin explained. He remembered the day it had been announced, it had felt like he was losing one more piece of his land’s freedom.

“No elf shall be engaged in any occupation other than singing, juggling, and/or tomfoolery,” Alice recited morosely. 

Quentin laid his hand on hers comfortingly. He knew what it was like to have no control over what you did. He wouldn’t wish that feeling on his worst enemy. 

“Couldn’t you petition the king to allow you to study law?” Julia asked. 

“Martin’s made it very clear what he thinks about elfs,” Alice said bitterly. “There’s no point.”

“You don’t know that! It’s worth a try,” Quentin said, squeezing Alice’s hand. He wanted Alice to try, needed her to understand that the life you got dealt wasn’t inevitable. That you could be more than what you were stuck with. “What’s the worst that could happen? He says no and then you’re back where you are now, but at least you _tried_.” 

“Do they have a height restriction to enter the palace?” Penny piped up. 

Kady cursed under her breath as Alice’s eyes locked onto the book at the end of the table. 

“It’s coming from the book!” Alice said, pointing at the tome accusingly. 

“No it’s not,” Kady protested. She picked up the book to show the empty cover, hoping that Penny stayed hidden. 

“Yes it is,” Alice insisted.

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s noooooot,” Penny taunted, his face appearing in the frame. His grin only grew with the startled noise that Alice made. 

“I knew it,” she said, recovering quickly. “A talking book.” 

“Listen,” Julia said, taking control of the situation before it got out of hand, “we’re trying to keep a low profile. So if you could just not tell anyone about the magical talking book until after we’ve skipped town-”

“Or not at all,” Kady interjected. 

“-or not at all, we’d really appreciate that,” Julia finished. 

Alice’s fingers tapped on the table as she processed. “Tell me why you’re keeping a low profile,” she finally said, “and I’ll consider not telling anyone.” 

“Give us just a minute,” Julia said, scooping up Penny and dragging Kady with the other hand. Quentin followed until they were gathered in a huddle a small distance away. 

“ **Don’t tell her anything** ,” Kady instructed, looking at Quentin. 

Quentin’s face screwed up in distaste. “That’s an order.” 

Kady threw up her hands in frustration. “I can’t just change my fucking speech pattern overnight!” 

“Stop, stop.” Julia hissed, grabbing her hands and yanking them back down. “Will it kill you to say please?”

“It just might,” the fairy ground out through gritted teeth. Penny snickered. 

Julia lifted him up so they were at the same eye level. “And you need to be more subtle or I swear to god, I will let a royal guard confiscate you. Understand?” 

Penny had the decency to look ashamed. “Yeah, alright.” 

Julia finally looked at Quentin, her face softening. “ **Tell her whatever you want** ,” she said. “It’s your story, Q, if you don’t want to tell her, we can make a run for it now.” Kady shifted uneasily at that, looking about and probably scanning the common room for exit strategies, but the fairy stayed silent. 

Quentin glanced back at Alice, still sitting at the table. The small elf had her hands folded in her lap, her grip so tight her knuckles were turning white. Maybe it was stupid, but he felt a connection to her. Neither of them had any control over what they did in life, and Quentin knew first hand how that felt. Living with that kind of thing hanging over your head did things to a person, and he just wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone. 

“Let’s tell her,” he told Julia. She nodded, and they all returned to the table. Alice looked at them with a guarded expression. 

Julia told the story as succinctly as she could, starting with Quentin being cursed as a baby. She explained everything from Ted’s death, to Quentin being commanded to not tell anyone about the curse, and concluded with Olga’s last command and Kady bringing them all on their quest. Alice took it all in with wide eyes, nodding along but not interrupting. 

She was quiet for a long time after the story was done, and the group sat in silence, letting her process. She finally gave a decisive nod and folded her hands on the table with a satisfied smile. 

“I’m going with you,” she declared. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Kady asked. She leaned forward to protest, but Julia’s touch at her elbow made her pause. 

“LaMea is on the way to Giantsville,” Alice explained. “You were right about petitioning the king, I’ll never know if I don’t try. Let me travel with you and I won’t tell anyone about your talking book. Or your curse.” 

Quentin considered her offer. There was strength in numbers, certainly, and the added benefit of her not arousing suspicion by telling the whole town about them. But even more importantly, and on top of that, he had a growing fondness for the petite blond, and he wanted her to be able to change her fate. _If she could do it, maybe he could too._

“Deal,” he agreed, holding his hand out to shake on it. Alice smiled, the first genuine one he’d seen on her, and it changed her face completely. She was practically glowing with excitement. 

_Yes_ , he thought, _this was a very good idea._


	5. a slight complication

Things were going slightly off plan. And by slightly, Quentin meant drastically veering completely out of control. 

It’s possible that the group had encountered a small cluster of ogres. It’s also possible that Quentin had tried reasoning with said ogres and explain that they were actually ogre’s rights activists and somehow accidentally made it seem like he thought ogres were big and dumb. And then they had attacked the group, knocking Kady out and tying up the rest of them. 

Possibly.

Quentin wriggled from his position tied to a giant log above the fire the ogres had built. One of them was slowly turning the log so Quentin revolved over the flames. 

Fire. Sky. Fire. Sky. Fire. Sky.

_Think, Q_. _There has to be a way out of this_. Quentin tried shifting his hands again, but they were tied firmly together. He strained his head up, trying to get a glimpse of where the others were tied to a nearby tree. 

“Julia,” he yelled. “Are you guys okay?” 

“We’re fine,” Julia answered. 

“We’re _tied_ to a _tree_ , Quentin,” Alice answered less nicely. 

Fire. Sky. Fire. Sky. Fire. Sky.

Quentin was starting to get a bit dizzy at the spinning motion.

“Sorry,” he apologized the next time the rotation of the log brought him in view of Alice, just as the ogre jostled Q’s wooden perch. 

“ **Shut up** ,” the ogre growled. Quentin’s mouth snapped shut. 

_Great_ , Quentin thought, _that’s gonna make this so much easier._ He racked his brain, trying to think of a way, any way, that they could possibly get themselves out of this mess. The fire wasn’t too hot yet, but as soon as the other ogres came back with more wood things were going to get really hot, really fast. 

Fire. Sky. Fire. Sky. Fire. Eliot.

_Eliot?_

Quentin’s eyes went wide as he waited for the log to come back around. He had to be seeing things, he convinced himself. There was no way the Prince was there right now, they were miles away from LaMea. 

But there he was, crouching in the foliage on the edge of the clearing, holding a finger to his lips to signal quiet. Quentin’s heart jumped a beat as the log kept turning and the prince disappeared out of sight once more. _What was Eliot doing there?_

Next thing he knew, the clearing erupted in sound as people emerged from the foliage in all directions. Quentin whipped his head around frantically, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening. The ogre that had been turning the log leapt up in surprise, knocking the log, and Quentin with it, off of its holder. The wind got knocked out of Q’s lungs as the log landed on the ground with a _thump!_ and rolled away from the fire. It came to a stop and once his vision stopped swimming Quentin could finally make out what was happening. 

Eliot and Margo were staging a rescue. Along with a handful of crown guards, they were attacking the ogres and from what Quentin could tell, they were winning. Margo was screaming a battle cry as she took an ogre on by herself, wielding her double axes as she spun like a whirling dervish of death. And _Eliot_ …

Watching Eliot fight was like watching art in action. He was transformed completely, his eyes taking on this hard, focused look as he attacked the ogres, flanked by his soldiers. He moved with surety and strength, calling commands to his men as they quickly knocked out first one ogre and then the other. This wasn’t the man who fled from fangirls or avoided political talk because it bore him. This was the man who was born to lead. This was the man who would be King. 

Margo knocked out the final ogre, nodding at Eliot across the clearing as she slid her axes back into her belt. “Untie them,” she commanded the soldiers, motioning to where Julia and Alice were still tied to the tree, “and use the rope to secure the ogres.” 

Eliot turned back to the fire, eyes widening in panic as he realized the log was gone. “Quentin!” he called, looking around frantically until he found where Q was lying, still affixed to the log. He ran to him, quickly untying him and helping him sit up. Quentin winced as his sore arms screamed in protest from being tied behind him for so long.

“Are you alright?” Eliot asked, hands fluttering over Quentin, searching for wounds. Quentin tried to answer but the ogres command still held his tongue. Eliot started getting frantic when Q didn’t respond. “Quentin? Are you injured? **Speak!** ” 

“I’m fine,” the words came out in a gasp of air. “I’m okay, I’m not hurt.” 

Eliot cursed under his breath, shaking his head. If Quentin didn’t know better, he would have sworn the prince looked relieved. His expression quickly turned to anger though. 

“Do you get a kick out of near death experiences?” he said, gesturing at the fire and the unconscious and tied up ogres. “What the hell were you thinking?” 

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Quentin protested, stumbling to his feet. “In fact, I had things handled, actually, I had a very good plan, and it would have worked perfectly if _you_ hadn’t interrupted it.” 

“Oh, of course, my apologies,” Eliot said, bowing mockingly in the smaller man’s direction. “Next time I see you about to be eaten alive, I’ll make sure to leave you to your own devices. I see the score currently stands at chivalry - two, gratitude - zero.”

Quentin bit his tongue. He hated to admit it, but ‘Prince Charming’ had a point. Whatever his motivation, Eliot had saved his life twice now, and all Quentin had done in return was insult him. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Eliot raised one eyebrow at him. “Thank you,” he said, trying to make it sound as genuine and sincere as he meant it. 

Some of the tension left the prince’s shoulders. “You’re welcome,” he nodded. Quentin noticed he was holding his left arm gingerly, and his gaze zeroed in on a cut near his shoulder. 

“You’re hurt,” he pointed out. He reached a hand out, to touch, to comfort, to inspect, he wasn’t sure. “Jules has a first aid kit. We should get that cleaned.” 

* * *

Eliot hadn’t woken up this morning planning to have his wounds bandaged by a cute boy after rescuing him from ogres, but hey, he wasn’t mad about it. The fact that the cute boy was Quentin was just the icing on the cake. 

He could feel Margo’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head but he pointedly ignored her. He flashed back to their conversation earlier in the day, after he had spent most of the morning talking about Quentin. 

> _“You know I’m never hasty to advise this, what with your reputation and all,” Margo said, “but I think you should just fuck him and get him out of your system.”_
> 
> _The pair were riding through the forest just north of Pim. It was the first time they had had to themselves since the Royal Tour. Their required detail of crown guards followed behind them, far enough away to give them privacy._
> 
> _“Okay, first of all, I’ve worked very hard for my slutty reputation, thank you very much,” he pointed out. “And secondly...I don’t know if I want to fuck him.”_
> 
> _Margo looked over at him suspiciously. “You wanna try that sentence again, sweetheart?”_
> 
> _Eliot rolled his eyes. “Fine, yes, I do want to fuck him.” Eliot paused as he thought of the boy from Frell, with his doe eyes and the soft curve of his lips. “I very much want to fuck him, but I don’t_ _just_ _want to fuck him. I also, well I kinda just want to see him again.” His face flushed red as he admitted what he’d been feeling ever since he first saw Quentin._
> 
> _Margo’s head rolled back as she let out a loud cackling laugh. “Eliot Waugh, you’re a fucking softie,” she teased._
> 
> _“Shut up,” he said, face burning as he spurred his horse into a gallop. Margo galloped after him, her laughter still audible over the thunder of horse hooves._

When they had come across the group held captive by the ogres, it had seemed too good to be true. But here he was, watching the boy from Frell turn a delicious shade of red as he carefully cleaned the cut on Eliot’s arm. 

They were seated on the edge of the river and Quentin was using a cloth he had dug from a bag somewhere, soaking it in water, wringing it out, and cleaning the blood from Eliot’s arm. Every movement was so careful and gentle. It kind of made Eliot’s heart hurt. 

“You’re awfully far from Frell,” he pointed out, shifting his arm so Quentin had to lean in further. 

“We’re on a quest,” Quentin said, absentmindedly. He frowned in concentration, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as he dabbed gently at the cut.

“A quest?” Eliot asked, delighted. “What’s a boy like you doing on a quest?”

Quentin paused in his tending, raising his eyebrows at Eliot in shock and offense. Eliot just grinned at him. “That’s none of your business,” the shorter man chided, the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. 

“Well, where are you going at least,” Eliot pushed. “Maybe it’s on our way.” 

Quentin inspected the cut and nodded in satisfaction, putting the cloth away and pulling out a roll of bandages. “Giantsville,” he said, as he began to wrap up Eliot’s arm. 

“Giantsville?” Eliot was confused. “Why are you going there? It’s just fields and crops.” 

“And an entire oppressed group of people,” Quentin muttered under his breath. 

_There he goes again_ , Eliot thought, _talking about something like it’s fact when I’ve never heard any word of it._ Stealing people’s land, destroying livelihoods, oppressing groups of people, there was no way things like that were actually happening. Martin would have told him if they were. _Wouldn’t he?_

“I need to find my…godfather,” Quentin continued, distracting Eliot from his train of thought. “I have to, uh, ask him something.” 

His fingers stumbled as he finished wrapping the bandage, tying a hasty knot. Eliot knew there was more to the story than that, but he didn’t want to push. The last thing he wanted was to pry too far and scare Quentin away for good. He didn’t know why, but he desperately wanted to keep Quentin right here, by his side. Something about the boy made him feel at home, even in the middle of a forest, surrounded by ogres. 

“I’ve never been to Giantsville,” Eliot admitted. “I’ve never really been anywhere, actually, not outside the Royal Tour.” He didn’t know why he was telling Quentin this, besides some inexplicable need to be seen and understood. “I know I’m in no position to complain, I mean for god sake I’m going to be king soon, but for once it’d be nice to be in charge of my own life.” 

He glanced at the other man, surprised when he was met with a look of genuine understanding. Quentin looked at him like he _saw_ him, the real him, the him he wasn’t even sure he knew himself. 

“I get that,” Quentin said quietly. “More than you know.” 

Eliot’s heart twisted under that gaze, telling him to run away before he got any more attached. He knew what happened to people he loved. 

“I need to talk to Margo,” he said, getting up and walking away without another word.

* * *

Quentin watched the prince walk away. Every time he talked to Eliot he always ended up more confused. It was so much easier to just hate him as a puppet of his uncle’s politics. Knowing he was an actual human overwhelmed by life just complicated things. _How dare he be so similar to myself_ , Q thought wryly. He picked up a handful of pebbles, tossing them absentmindedly into the water as Julia, Kady, and Alice sat down next to him. 

“Sooo,” Julia said, drawing out the sound, “when exactly were you going to mention that you met the prince?” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It happened right after the protest, we ran into each other on the road out of Frell, and I was going to tell you the next day but then Olga made me say that shit to you and then Kady showed up and in all excitement I completely forgot.” 

“Are you guys friends or something?” Alice asked, suspiciously. 

“No, we’re not _friends_ really,” Quentin assured her. “We just met the one time, and talked for a while. Honestly, I think the only reason he remembers me is because I refused to bow to him and I insulted his uncle’s policies.” 

Kady snorted at that, giving him an appreciative grin. 

“That decides it!” Eliot declared loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. “We shall escort you to Giantsville.” 

The group looked over at the prince and his entourage in surprise. Quentin stumbled to his feet a moment after everyone else, as they all went over to join them. 

“That’s really not necessary,” he protested, hesitant to accept the prince’s offer even if he desperately wanted to. 

“But it makes it so much easier rescuing you if I don’t have to commute,” Eliot teased with a grin. Quentin’s face burned and he could tell from the look Julia was giving him that he was turning bright red. 

“Now I’ve heard all about Eliot’s moderately maladjusted acquaintance,” Margo said, gesturing at Quentin, “but who are the rest of you?” 

“Julia of Frell,” Jules introduced herself with a small curtsy. “I’m maladjusted’s best friend.” 

“Kady. Battle Magic Fairy.” Kady gave a swift bow from the waist. 

“Battle Magic Fairy?” Margo raised an eyebrow. “That’s hot.” 

Kady’s eyes flashed with satisfaction, but she kept her face composed. 

“And who’s this little kitten?” Margo asked, moving to stand in front of Alice. 

“Alice of Pim.” She held her chin high and didn’t bow. Pointedly, she looked past Margo to where Q was standing and raised her voice to be heard. “And with all due respect, Quentin, an escort would be appreciated.” 

Margo’s eyes sparkled with delight as she looked the elf up and down. “You heard the lady,” she called over her shoulder to the soldiers awaiting orders, “We’ll be escorting them to Giantsville.” 

The soldiers immediately galvanized into action, readying the horses for departure. 

“Will someone _please_ take me out of this bag before the smell of stale rations suffocates me to death?” 

Everyone froze. Eliot looked around confused and Margo’s hand tightened on one of her axes. Kady gave a long sigh and embraced the inevitable, pulling out the tome and turning the front to face outwards. Penny waited a moment before dramatically appearing out of the formless shadows on the cover. Margo gave a delighted gasp. 

“Your Highness, Sir Margo,” Penny greeted with a nod of his head. “Penny Adiyodi, at your service.” 

“Well, hello there, gorgeous,” Margo crooned, a wicked grin on her face. 

“You can flirt with the book once we’re on the road, Bambi,” Eliot said, grinning at his best friend as he swung up into the saddle of his steed. “Come on, everyone. Mount up.” 

The group looked at each other in confusion as the guards handed them each the reins to a horse. Alice gave a soft gasp as she looked up at the horse now in front of her in wonder. 

“Where about the guards?” Kady asked suspiciously. 

“They’re going back to LaMea, to inform my uncle of our plans,” Eliot explained. “It’ll be alright, Margo and I are more than enough to keep you safe.” 

Kady gave him a sour look as she swung easily onto her horse. “Not what I was worried about.” 

Alice had already mounted her horse with easy grace, and was now talking to it happily in a quiet voice. Quentin scratched the neck of his horse before mounting. It had been a while since he’d ridden, but the movements were familiar. Julia hopped a couple of times before leveraging herself up and swinging one leg over.

“Any further objections?” Margo asked. None were stated and she nodded in satisfaction. “Let’s ride.” 

* * *

Quentin couldn't deny that riding with Eliot was infinitely better than trudging through the forest on foot. Maybe he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he also couldn’t deny it. He and Eliot had taken up the lead of their little procession, with Margo and Alice a ways behind them, and Julia and Kady taking up the rear. 

“You ride well,” Eliot remarked, looking at Quentin out of the corner of his eye. The statement would seem innocent enough, if it hadn’t been paired with a wickedly cocked eyebrow and a knowing grin.

Q tried to keep his face from flushing red. He was very out of his element. Trying to come up with a response was difficult, and Quentin was embarrassed when he suddenly burst out with “well, I went to horse camp as a kid.” 

“Horse camp!” Eliot looked delighted. “Now that’s a _delicious_ mental image. Young Quentin, learning how to ride a horse and throw a lasso.” Eliot paused for a moment, and shot Q a look that Quentin didn’t really want to try and translate. And then he went on. “You probably had a huge crush on all the girl counselors, didn’t you?” 

Quentin’s face was burning, there was no helping it now. “Not just the girls,” he muttered under his breath. Eliot’s grin grew wider but he didn’t reply. 

They rode in silence for a while as Quentin desperately tried to make his face return to normal coloring. 

“So what do you need to ask your godfather?” Eliot asked, abruptly.

Quentin was startled by the question, but was even more surprised by the realization that he wanted to tell him. He’d spent his whole life trying to hide his curse and make sure no one ever found out, but something now made him want to open up. Maybe it was stupid to want to trust the prince, but he somehow got the feeling that Eliot would understand. Not that it mattered, though. Whether he wanted to or not, the curse would prevent him from sharing anything. 

“You don’t have to say,” Eliot continued, interpreting the silence. “If it’s too personal, I get it.” 

“It’s not that, so much, it’s just-” Quentin sighed, wanting to explain but not sure how to. “I guess that I just don’t know what I’m doing?” It came out sounding like a question, but when Eliot gave him a curious look he continued. “I don’t know, it’s just, I feel like everyone else has a say in my life except for me. And I wanna tell them all to fuck off and do my own thing, but at this point I’m not sure I know what my own thing even looks like.”

Silence fell over them, but a comfortable silence. Quentin wasn’t used to that. Usually after he blurted out all of the messy thoughts in his head, he got yelled at or lectured to. Eliot just seemed to be mulling it over, until he finally spoke up. 

“I’ll let you in on a little secret. Ready? Okay.” Eliot took a deep breath. “I have no idea how to be king.” 

Quentin wanted to laugh at that, but the look on Eliot’s face said this was not a laughing matter. “You’re the prince. Don’t they train you for this since birth?” 

“They would have,” Eliot said with a wry laugh. “If I hadn’t started ditching all my lessons when my mother died. My uncle Martin became Regent and I became very skilled at…escaping things.” 

Everyone in the kingdom knew the reputation the prince had. The prince of debauchery and revelry, he was infamous for throwing the biggest parties in the kingdom and rumor had it he was sober only one day a year. Quentin had always thought he acted like that because he was a spoiled brat. It hadn’t occurred to him that maybe the prince was just as hurt and lost as he was. 

“‘Prince Charming’,” Quentin murmured, the nickname that most of the citizens had for their partying prince. 

“Indeed,” Eliot said with a sardonic smile. “And now I’m getting crowned in a week and I have no fucking clue how to run a kingdom.” 

“Are you trying to tell me even prince’s have problems?” Quentin asked. 

“I’m trying to tell you you’re not alone,” Eliot said, meeting his gaze.

The honesty in his eyes surprised Quentin. This man who had seen and done everything was looking at him like he was something worth looking at. Quentin felt exposed, and he wanted to both hide and bask in Eliot’s gaze forever. It was a very confusing emotion. 

The two men were interrupted by Margo and Alice coming up to ride beside them. Margo glanced between them briefly, undoubtedly picking up on the strange current of energy filling the air between them. 

“Eliot,” Margo said, fixing the prince with a serious look, “Alice has something she would like to ask you.” 

“If it’s an autograph, you’ll have to wait till we stop somewhere,” Eliot answered with a chuckle. He noticed the looks on both Margo and Alice’s faces, however, and sobered. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry. What did you want to ask?” 

“Well, I, um,” Alice hesitated, looking at Margo who nodded at her reassuringly. She sat up straighter and continued with confidence. “I would like to petition the crown for the right to become a lawyer.” 

“Oh is that all?” Eliot asked, relieved. “Of course you can. Not a problem.” 

Quentin let out a sigh of relief. _That went way easier than I thought it would._ Alice let out a soft laugh as Margo reached out and squeezed her hand. 

“Of course, you’ll have to go to LaMea and ask Martin,” Eliot continued. “I’m afraid I can’t really do anything about it, but if you have a good argument I’m sure he’ll listen.” 

Quentin’s heart sank. He knew as Alice did that there was no way Martin would ever allow the exception, no matter how convincing an argument she had. He watched as Alice’s hand tightened its grip on Margo’s, her knuckles turning white as what little hope she had been given was yanked away again. 

“Of course,” she whispered, her eyes looking off into the distance. “I…sorry.” 

She pulled on the reins, slowing her horse down until she fell back from the others. Quentin’s heart hurt for her. Margo fixed Eliot with an unyielding look, and Q watched him squirm under her gaze.

“What?” he asked, confusion quickly turning to anger. 

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to pull your head out of your ass once in a while,” she hissed, pulling on her reins as well.

“Bambi,” Eliot pleaded as she fell behind them to ride next to Alice. He turned to look at Quentin helplessly. 

“You wanna know how to rule a kingdom?” Quentin asked, frustrated. “Start by listening to its citizens yourself and not shoving the fucking responsibility on your ass of an uncle.”

He nudged his horse into a gallop and rode away, ignoring the way Eliot called after him.


	6. a giant celebration

It didn’t take the group long to figure out where Fogg might be after arriving in Giantsville. As soon as they stopped and asked someone, it became evident that everyone was focused on a wedding in the South Quarter. The giant they talked to made it sound like it was the first exciting thing to happen in weeks. Looking around at the dreary landscape, Quentin was inclined to believe him. 

Eliot grew more and more withdrawn as they rode through the land. Quentin watched his face, trying to figure out what was going through the prince’s mind. They rode past endless fields where Giants slaved away under the scorching sun, driven by whip-wielding “supervisors” bearing the crown’s insignia. Everywhere they went, Giants averted their eyes, their shoulders slumped in defeat. Quentin had heard how terrible the conditions were, but seeing them with his own eyes was something else entirely. He felt sick to his stomach. 

They rode in silence the rest of the way to the South Quarter. A somber air had settled over the group, only easing once they reached the site of the wedding, where light and music and laughter spilled out of a giant barn. Everyone dismounted to head inside, but Eliot stopped Quentin with a hand on his own.

“I had no idea,” he said softly, his eyes wide as he processed everything he had witnessed. Quentin didn’t know what to say, so he just squeezed the prince’s hand reassuringly. 

Margo was looking at the building with a bodyguard's eyes, her hands resting on the axes by her sides as she squinted suspiciously at the many windows. “I’m going to check on things, make sure everything here is on the up and up,” she said. She turned to give Kady an appraising look. “Hey, Battle Magic! You gonna give me a hand?” Kady answered with a nod and the two of them disappeared into darkness surrounding the building. 

They began walking into the building and Eliot’s nerves seemed to increase with every step. He leaned in until his head was next to Quentin’s so no one could overhear. 

“Why do I get the feeling I won’t be welcome here?” Eliot murmured, his breath tickling Quentin’s ear. The shorter man tried to suppress the way it sent shivers down his spine. “If I was living like these people have been, and I saw a member of the royal family, I’d be, well, _royally_ pissed off.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Q said reassuringly, hyper focused on where their hands were brushing together. “Giants don’t hold grudges. They’re bigger than that.” _Shit fuck goddammit, a pun, Q, really?_

Eliot paused as he realized what Quentin had just said, and then let out a breathless laugh. He slung a casual arm around Q’s shoulders, pulling him into his side and the smaller man went willingly. Every inch of him from hip to shoulder was pressed into the comforting heat of Eliot, and he felt like he was moments away from bursting into flame. 

The group stepped through the doorway into the Giant’s wedding. Everything was so much larger than he’d ever seen, with everything scaled for people who towered above them at double their height. _I wonder if this is what kids feel like?_ Quentin wondered. He quickly scanned the crowds for any glimpse of Fogg, but there were too many people to see anything clearly. 

“I didn’t know there were humans coming to the wedding,” a voice boomed out from above them. “But hey, the more the merrier!” 

They craned their necks up to see a fancily dressed Giant smiling broadly down at them. Despite his huge build and intimidating presence, he had a kind face and quickly knelt down to be more on their level. 

“Hello, I’m Julia of Frell,” Julia introduced herself with a respectful curtsy. 

“Koopaduk of Giantsville,” the Giant answered in return, extending his hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” Julia grinned, reaching out to shake it, her hand looking tiny in comparison. “This is my friend, Quentin. We’re looking for his godfather, we heard he was attending this wedding. He’s a fairy, his name is Fogg.” 

“Well I haven’t heard the name Fogg,” Koopaduk said, “but we do have some fairy folk in attendance. They’re at the table over there by the refreshments.” He pointed across the room.

Quentin thanked him and made to head over there, but Koopaduk reached out to stop them as his gaze narrowed in on Eliot. 

“Now hold on a minute, aren’t you the prince?” the Giant said, his face clouding over with distrust. “What are you doing here?” 

Quentin felt Eliot freeze next to him. Q had never seen the prince at a loss for words, but at that moment he looked completely overwhelmed. 

“He’s here to, um, pay his respects?” Quentin tried.

The Giant’s eyes narrowed, and he bent closer to get a better look at the two of them. Suddenly, a feminine voice cleared it’s throat next to them, drawing the Giant’s attention. 

“Prince Eliot is assessing the current state of the kingdom in preparation of his upcoming coronation, so as to formulate the necessary policy changes,” Alice said, her voice level and clear. 

Her words seemed to spur Eliot into action and he took a step forward, raising his chin. “I’m here as a friend to hear your complaints,” he said. 

Quentin let out a relieved breath as the Giant straightened up with a pleased smile. 

“Then welcome,” Koopaduk said, gesturing towards a table where several important looking Giant’s were gathered. “Please join us.”

“Thank you,” Eliot said, nodding in acknowledgement. He moved to follow the Giant to the table, looking back in surprise when Quentin didn’t come with him. 

“I have to find my godfather,” Quentin explained apologetically. 

“I’ll go with you, Eliot,” Alice said, stepping up to stand beside the prince. “You’re going to need help.” 

There was a bitter, accusatory note to her voice, but the look on Eliot’s face said that he knew she had a point. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “and thank you.” 

Alice nodded shortly but she also didn’t look quite so pinched, so Quentin counted it as progress. He waited until the pair started making their way to the table before grabbing Julia’s hand and slipping off on his own quest to find Fogg. 

* * *

Either the fairies had been there for a while or they just couldn’t handle the drinks of the Giant’s, because most of them were absolutely trashed. Quentin wrinkled his nose in distaste as he scanned the group, but none of them seemed to match Kady’s description of Fogg. 

“Um, excuse me,” Quentin said, trying to get the attention of the group, “is Fogg here?” 

The fairies kept talking, laughing loudly and screaming to be heard over the music. 

“HEY!” Julia yelled. The group fell silent as they finally realized they were being addressed. “We’re looking for Fogg.” 

“You looking for Henry?” one of the fairy’s slurred. She glanced around the group as if to point him out, and then her brow furrowed. “He musta left. The fuck you want him for?” 

“He’s my godfather,” Quentin explained. “I just, I need to talk to him.” 

The fairy leaned closer, peering at Quentin’s face. “He give you one of them bullshit gifts?” Q didn’t answer but he didn’t have to. She nodded in understanding. “I got you.” 

She grabbed one of the goblets in front of her and spilled it onto the table, forming a puddle. She waved her hand over it haphazardly. “Show me Henry Fogg!” The puddle clouded over and then an image appeared on the mist. A middle aged man in a tailored suit was stumbling alone down a dark road. Quentin didn’t know how to feel now that he had a face to put to the name that had caused him so much torment. 

“Where is that?” Julia asked. 

“Fuck if I know” the fairy said helpfully. She gestured at the puddle with a shrug. “It doesn’t show me a location, he could have portaled anywhere.” 

“Shit.” Quentin scrubbed at his face with his hands. _So close._ He had been so close to being free and now they were back at square fucking one. His chest felt tight and he rubbed at it absentmindedly. 

“Sorry, kiddo,” the fairy apologized. “You want my advice? You should leave him be. He’s not too keen on taking gifts back, you’re better off just living with it, whatever he gave you. It could be worse, at least he didn’t turn you into a squirrel!” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Quentin muttered, pulling Julia away from the table. 

“Now what?” Julia asked as soon as they were out of earshot. 

“I don’t know,” Q sighed, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now. Kady had said she didn’t have enough materials for another location spell. Should they get more materials and try the spell again? Should they just go back home and give up? Should he start looking around outside in the hopes that Fogg was too drunk to portal and was still in the area? _Should I just curl up and cry,_ Q thought wryly, _cause honestly that’s what I feel most like doing._

Julia swore as her eyes focused on something across the room. Quentin followed her line of sight until he spotted Kady, who had apparently joined the party at some point, getting in the face of one of the Giants angrily. Or trying to get in her face. She was significantly shorter than the Giant so it was more like getting in her bellybutton, but it was Kady so she was holding her own. 

“That’s not gonna end well,” Julia said, already making her way in that direction. “Q, are you gonna be okay if I just-”

“No, yeah, go ahead,” he interrupted, reassuring her. He hadn’t figured out what he was going to do yet, but he knew that Kady getting in a fight wasn’t going to help anything. 

“I’ll be right back!” Julia yelled over her shoulder as she went to smooth things over. 

Quentin quickly found himself surrounded by strangers at a social engagement. Basically his worst nightmare. The tightness in his chest that had started when he realized Fogg was gone grew stronger, and with every inhale of breath he felt a stab of pain. _Okay, calm down,_ he told himself, _go find your friends and figure out what to do next._

He took a deep breath and made his way back to the table where Eliot and Alice sat with the Koopaduk and the others. It seemed that things were going well. Eliot had relaxed and was back to his charming self, the Giant’s appeared at ease, and even Alice was smiling. Eliot spotted him as he approached and called out his name delightedly, throwing an arm around his shoulder as soon as he was close enough. 

“That’s a fine young man you have here,” Koopaduk told Quentin, nodding at Eliot with newfound respect. 

Quentin’s heart did a weird flopping movement in his chest at the implication that Eliot was _his_ young man. “Oh, he’s not fine. I mean, mine!” His face burned red hot as he rushed to clarify. “He is fine. I just...I...nevermind.”

Koopaduk smiled, bowing briefly before excusing himself. Margo arrived just as he walked away, apparently having secured the perimeter and deemed it safe enough to join the revelry. 

“Who was that?” she asked, eyeing Koopaduk’s retreating form. 

“A stunning specimen of a Giant,” Eliot declared, before chugging the rest of whatever was in his glass. “He’s actually Mayor of Giantsville. We had a very good discussion about some laws that need to be passed.” 

Margo raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You talked politics?”

“I did.” He reached for Alice’s drink and finished that one as well. “Alice helped.”

“I was really good,” Alice said with a giggle. Her drink seemed to be affecting her quite a bit more than it was Eliot. 

“She was indispensable,” Eliot agreed. “Which is why I will be personally signing her petition to become a lawyer as soon as we return to LaMea.” 

There was a brief moment before Alice registered what Eliot had just said, and then she let out a high pitched gasp. She let out a choked sob and threw her arms around Eliot, who let out a surprised _oof_ as she knocked the wind out of him.

“Yes, yes, I’m a very benevolent ruler,” he said, patting her head with one hand while still waving the goblet around with the other one. “You can erect a statue in my honor later.” 

For all of his bravado, Quentin could see that Eliot was actually affected by all the emotion. His eyes were lit up in a way that Q hadn’t seen before and it made his heart hurt in the best way. When Alice finally pulled away, Eliot looked down at her with a soft smile. 

“Well, I think this calls for a celebration, kitty cat,” Margo purred, wrapping her arm around the elf’s shoulders. “What do ya say you and I go get some more of that drink, huh?” 

Alice nodded happily, hiccuping from all the excitement. Her eyes were shiny from unshed tears and she was smiling from ear to ear. She whispered a thank you to Eliot as Margo led her away.

“Make sure she drinks lots of water,” Quentin piped up as they walked past him. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn't do!” Eliot called after their retreating forms. He grinned as Margo flipped him off over her shoulder. 

The momentary distraction now gone, all of the panic came rushing back to Quentin double force. _Fogg is gone. Fogg is gone and we're never going to find him and I’m going to be stuck like this forever._ He let out a shaky breath, and Eliot looked over at him with concern. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out to steady the smaller man. “Quentin?” 

“He’s not here. My godfather.” Quentin took a deep breath, trying to force himself to calm down. “I guess he’s on some sort of bender. He was here but he’s left already and now I’m never going to find him because Kady can’t do another locator spell and god knows _where_ he might have gone next and I just...I really need to find him.”

Quentin’s voice broke on the last few words and he cursed himself as tears sprung unbidden to his eyes. He was _not_ going to cry, not in front of Eliot, he was better than that. Alice was getting her petition and everyone else was enjoying the party, he wasn’t going to be the one to ruin everyone else’s happiness. Not this time. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Eliot said, his hand stroking Quentin’s arm soothingly. “There’s gotta be some other way to find him, you’ve got a prince on your side now. We’ll tackle it in the morning, but for right now, you should try and calm down. Here, **have a drink**.” 

Eliot snagged a goblet of something from a waiter walking by and pressed it into Quentin’s hands. Q took it and took a sip, the curse moving his limbs on autopilot. 

“I need to find him,” Quentin insisted, his brain focusing on the one thing he could do _right now_ . “Maybe he _just_ left, if I just go out there and start looking around I might-” 

“Quentin, no,” Eliot said, fixing him with a commanding look, “You are not going to find anything outside right now because it’s _pitch black_ . We can’t do anything till morning anyway, so I suggest we take advantage of the free booze. **Stay for the party**.”

Quentin sucked in a breath at the command, and snapped. He couldn’t help it, he was already so high strung after the ogres and the long day and not finding Fogg, that this was just the final straw. 

“Guess I’ll just stay then,” he snapped. “I mean, if the prince commands it, what else am I supposed to do?” 

Eliot slid his hand away from Quentin’s shoulder. Q immediately wanted to take the words back, if it meant Eliot would keep touching him. He knew Eliot didn’t mean it like that, he was just tired and fed up and wanted everything to _stop being so hard_. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Eliot said quietly, carefully. “You shouldn’t have to stay if you don’t want to. **Do whatever you think is best**.”

Quentin paused. He’d never had someone rescind a command without even knowing about the curse before. He sniffled and swiped at his teary eyes. 

“Thank you,” he muttered. Now that the command was gone, he found he wasn’t actually too keen on leaving. Eliot had a point, looking in the dark was futile, but now he felt like he had to stick to his word on principle. He turned and started walking away. 

“But I _wish_ you would stay,” Eliot burst out behind him, like he couldn’t physically keep the words inside any longer. Quentin hid his smile before turning around. 

“I guess one night won’t hurt.”

* * *

Alice stared into her goblet, watching the way the lights sparkled and danced in the crystal clear water’s reflection. 

“You doing okay, kitty cat?” 

Margo’s voice cut through the white noise, making her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. That was a new sensation for her, and strangely, it only seemed to happen with Margo, but if she was being honest with herself she didn’t mind. 

“Your voice is nice.” Alice’s forehead wrinkled up as she tried to figure out who had decided that those words should come out of her mouth, because it certainly wasn’t her. 

Margo chuckled. “Drink your water, baby,” she said, nudging the bottom of the goblet in Alice’s hands. 

_Baby_. The term of endearment echoed in Alice’s head, making her stomach do this dropping thing that would have felt really nice had she not been slightly nauseous. She obediently took a sip of the water, hoping it would settle her stomach. Or give her clarity. Or courage. Or something. 

_Fuck it._

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, meeting Margo’s eyes. She didn’t want to fuck it up, she was enjoying the attention the bodyguard was giving her, but she didn’t _understand_ it. So she did what she always did with something she didn’t understand, she asked pertinent questions and puzzled it out until it made sense.

Margo gave a soft smile, reaching over for Alice’s free hand and twining their fingers together. Alice felt a shiver run up her spine at the contact and quickly took another drink of water. It was making the fuzziness leave her brain, which was good, because she had a feeling she wanted to remember whatever Margo was going to say next. 

“Because I like you,” Margo said, with a glittering smile and a casual shrug. She just _said_ it. Like it was easy, like it was a thing people said. Like Alice was a thing people liked. “I like how you look at the world like one giant puzzle you need to solve. I like how you don’t let anyone tell you what you can or cannot be. I like how this prim and proper girl,” she reached out to run her fingers through Alice’s hair, “holds so much power inside of her.” 

Alice swallowed hard. Somehow Margo had looked at all the things about her that normally chased people away and said _I like those things specifically_. She felt like she was standing on a precipice and if she just leaned forward, she’d find she could fly. 

“You don’t think,” she whispered, scared to say it too loudly, “that power like that would be too much competition?” 

Margo’s eyes sparkled and she leaned forward until her face was just inches away from Alice's. 

“I like competition,” Margo whispered back. Alice could feel her breath on her face, sweet from the wine she’d been drinking. All she had to do was lean in and they’d be kissing. Alice took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

“Hey, there’s an elf! Sing for us!” 

Alice’s eyes snapped open. Margo had already turned to find the source of the voice, a look of murder in her eyes. The Giant’s call had alerted others around him and now a small group of them were looking over at Alice with anticipation. 

She panicked and fled, leaving Margo behind her.

* * *

Dragging Kady away from the scuffle she had been embroiled in, Julia pondered until she got to the root of the problem. The problem, you see, was Kady.

Kady being a firecracker of a battle magic fairy with a short fuse was _really fucking hot_. And, Julia found that reminding herself that Kady had a boyfriend wasn’t helping, because her boyfriend was snarky and funny and also, even as a book, was _really fucking hot_. 

Basically, Julia was suffering. 

Reaching an empty table, Julia pulled Kady down onto the bench with her. 

“You have to stop threatening to punch people!” she scolded the fairy, trying to ignore how cute she looked when she was scowling. 

“Penny said something and they heard him and I just panicked,” Kady grumbled, grabbing a drink someone had left on the table and downing it. 

Of course, Julia thought, why wouldn’t he risk it all to get in a quip?

Muttering under her breath, Julia dug into the satchel and pulled Penny halfway out, so he was still hidden from others but she could see his face. 

“And you need to learn to _shut the fuck up_ ,” she hissed at him. 

Penny had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I just get insane stuck in a fucking backpack all day.” 

Julia nodded in understanding. “We’ll try to be better about making sure you get some air,” she promised. A thought struck her and she turned to Kady. “Have you ever tried turning him back human?” 

Kady stiffened. “The last time I tried anything that wasn’t battle magic was when he got turned into the book in the first place,” she said. “I’m af-I won’t try anything like that again.”

“You’re a fuckin’ powerful fairy,” Julia pointed out, _with an ass that won’t quit_. She kept that part to herself, though, before going on. “I think you could do it.” 

“Yeah, well, I keep trying to do things and nothing fucking works right!” Kady said angrily. Bright and deadly magic thrummed at the tips of her fingers, sending tremors through the table. 

“Babe…” Penny said, looking at Kady like he was desperately wishing he could reach out and comfort her. Julia did it for him, laying a hand on her knee. Kady took a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “It’s just, Fogg’s not here. Which means my spell was entirely useless. Just like when he cast the stupid thing, I was entirely useless.” Kady let out a sigh that almost bordered on shaky and buried her head in her hands. “I wasn’t quick enough, and I can’t even cast another locator spell without crystalized lizard giblets. And that’s fucking impossible to get your hands on, this time of year. So I failed. Again.” 

“Okay first of all, your spell was not useless, it did exactly what it was supposed to do,” Julia said, squeezing Kady’s knee.

“Also not your fault we got captured by ogres,” Penny said. 

“Exactly,” Julia agreed. “You didn’t fail. It just didn’t work out this time. So we try again.” 

Kady glanced up at her with a wry grin. “Yeah, okay.” 

“It’s not just you anymore,” Julia said, matching her smile. “We’re a team now.”

“Team Penny and the Bitches,” Penny said with a smirk. 

Julia snorted and Kady smacked the top of the book. 

“Julia!” 

Quentin’s voice carried across the crowd as he weaved his way towards her, dragging Eliot behind him. He arrived out of breath and still holding the prince’s hand. Julia made a mental note to ask him about that later.

“Eliot figured it out! How to find Fogg,” Quentin clarified. He was practically glowing with happiness and Eliot was looking at him like he hung the moon. _Yeah,_ _definitely_ _asking about that later._ “The Hall of Records in LaMea! The yearly census will tell us Fogg’s last known address!” 

“Of course!” Kady exclaimed. “I thought of that a while ago but the Hall is restricted, kept apart from us commoners.” 

“Yeah, well,” Quentin shrugged, gesturing at Eliot. “Prince.” 

Julia was surprised to see Eliot actually blush at Quentin’s words. She was about to say something when Alice came flying through the crowd towards them, with Margo following quickly behind her.

“Hide me!” Alice squeaked as she slid to a stop in the midst of them, ducking behind Kady. 

“What the hell is going on?” Kady asked, looking around warily as Giants started to gather around them. 

“They want me to sing,” Alice hissed, just as one of the biggest Giant’s said, “She’s an entertainer, right?” 

_Shit_. Julia connected the dots and hoped there was some way they could deter the growing group of Giants. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said, placing herself in front of Kady and the mostly hidden Alice. “You see, Alice here isn’t actually an entertainer. She doesn’t sing.”

The Giant peered at the group of humans suspiciously. “She’s an elf, isn’t she?” 

Julia grimaced. “Yes…,” she drew out the word, trying to figure out how they were going to get out of this one. 

“She’s not gonna sing for you, okay,” Quentin interjected, coming up to stand at the front of the group with Julia. “Find someone else to entertain you.” 

The Giant tilted his head slowly, focusing on Quentin. Julia’s stomach dropped as she realized what was coming next, but was powerless to stop it. 

“Alright then,” the Giant said. “ **You sing for us!** ”

* * *

_Shit fuck goddamit._

Honestly at this point in his life, Quentin thought he shouldn’t have any more panic left in him. Certainly he must have used up his entire supply, but no! Here he was, once again, frozen with panic as the curse compelled him to do something. 

Everyone was looking at him. The Giants, his friends, _Eliot_ , oh god Eliot was going to have to listen to him sing, he was going to embarrass himself in front of him and that was going to be the end of it. The curse pulled and pulled at his gut, forcing him to sing something, anything, _now!_

“Can…anybody…find me…,” his voice croaked and cracked as the words came stumbling out, “…somebody to love?” 

There was a moment as it felt like everyone held their breath, and then the band picked up the tune of the familiar song and the notes rang through the hall. Quentin swallowed, hoping the one line would have been enough to assuage the curse but it continued to pull at him. 

“Each morning I get up I die a little, can barely stand on my feet,” he continued singing, his voice quiet and barely audible over the music. He kept his eyes straight ahead, refusing to look at his friends or Eliot. _Okay this is fine, I can do this_. If he just stayed quiet and boring, hopefully the crowd would get tired of it and move on. He could escape this whole event with the least amount of embarrassment. _Just as long as no one tells me to be-_

“ **Louder!** ” 

Quentin groaned. “I work hard every day of my life, I work 'til I ache in my bones,” the words came out stronger and louder, startling himself with his own voice. He sang all the time, usually messing around with Julia, but never like this. He didn’t know if it was the curse making him sound halfway decent, or if the effects of the long day and endless panic had just sent him into full on delusion. 

“ **Dance!** ” 

_Oh for fucks sake._ Quentin gave up. This was his life now. He was doomed to endless embarrassment. At this point he was just _so fucking tired_ of fighting it, so he took a deep breath, said _fuck it_ , and started dancing. He had all the gratefulness of a deer on ice, but they could fucking tell him to dance better if they didn’t like it. 

“Got no feel, I got no rhythm, I just keep losing my beat.” He leapt and twirled as he sang, limbs flying every direction as he stumbled across the stage. In between words he started giggling, because honestly the whole thing was so ridiculous he kind of had to. “I just gotta get out of this prison cell, one day I'm gonna be free!” He held the last note as the music faded out. 

His eyes focused on the crowd and realized they were swaying with smiles on their faces. They began chanting the finale to the song. 

_“Find me somebody to love.”_

He spotted Julia at the edge of the stage and she was grinning from ear to ear. She made a spinning motion with one finger, nodding at him encouragingly. 

_“Find me somebody to love.”_

He started spinning across the stage, losing himself in the motion and the blur. 

_“Find me somebody to love.”_

The music grew louder, as did the voices. He had no sense of space anymore, or where he was on the stage. 

_“Somebody!”_

Spinning.

_“Somebody!”_

Spinning.

_“Somebody find me!”_

He just wanted-

_“Somebody to love!”_

The music came to a crescendo and suddenly his foot slipped off the edge of the stage. The crowd gave a gasp, but before Quentin could even process what was happening, a pair of strong arms had caught him and swung him back onto stage. 

Quentin looked up with wide eyes at Eliot, who was holding him. The prince was practically cradling him in his arms as he looked down at Quentin with such…Q couldn’t even figure it out. It was gentle and tender and lov--It was too much. 

“Somebody to…” Quentin finished at barely a whisper, “love.” 

A smile spread across Eliot’s face, but this smile wasn’t crowd-winning or performative. This smile was just for Quentin. He wrapped his arms firmer around Q’s waist and started stepping from side to side, gently guiding him in the easiest slow dance. The crowd gave a collective sigh as the music picked up again.

_“Find me somebody to love! Find me somebody to love!”_

The crowd kept singing, but Quentin didn’t care anymore. His entire world had shrunk down to where the two of them slowly swayed back and forth, arms wrapped around each other.

* * *

Hours later, the party had almost died down completely. There were a few stragglers still nursing drinks in darkened corners, but most of the guests had shuffled off to bed, including most of the adventuring group of friends. The only ones remaining were Quentin and Eliot, who had found a spot by the fire and were completely oblivious to anything happening around them. 

Quentin had started out tucked into one corner of the Giant-sized armchair they had claimed, with Eliot tucked in the other, but over the course of the evening they had slowly shifted closer until their sides were pressed together in one long line that felt like it was on fire. Q didn’t know if it was the drink or the way Eliot kept looking at him like _that_ but everything felt warm and fuzzy and he kind of never wanted it to end. 

“My step-sister Fen would die if she knew I was here,” Quentin said, grinning into his goblet. “She’s the president of your fan club, you know?”

“Oh, Fen! Thank you,” Eliot said, nudging his knee into Q’s. “Now I know what name to put on the restraining order.”

Quentin snorted, choking on his drink and making Eliot giggle. They fell into a comfortable silence, Q’s head rolling back to rest on the chair behind them. He knew they had to continue their quest tomorrow morning, but he wanted to pause time for a bit and live in this moment where it was only him and Eliot. Just two boys who maybe possibly kind of liked each other, with no curse or royalty or anything else. 

“You were right, you know.” Eliot said, breaking the silence. “Everything you said about how Martin is ruining the kingdom. I think I’ve always known what my uncle’s like, I’ve just not wanted to acknowledge it.”

Quentin’s eyes widened in surprise. He reached out, laying a tentative hand on Eliot’s arm.

“I’ve been so scared of doing it wrong, that I haven’t done anything at all.” Eliot’s eyes looked unsure but his voice was strong. “And I’ve been so removed from everything that I’ve been able to fool myself into thinking that it doesn’t matter. But it does matter. People like Alice and the Giants, they deserve a King who actually gives a shit about them, and I want to be that King. After my coronation, I’m going to change things.” 

Quentin looked at the man beside him, the firelight flickering on his face, and couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to know him. This man who held so many different versions of himself together by sheer will and determination. Layers upon layers, and beneath it all, a man who was just trying to be _good_. 

“I think you’re gonna be a great king,” he whispered. 

Eliot looked down at him with soft eyes. Q swore he would never get tired of the way El looked at him like he was the amazing thing, like _Eliot_ was the lucky one to have him. 

“All my life, I’ve always run away from things that scare me,” Eliot said. “And then I met you, and you run headfirst into these things that you really shouldn’t, like you have no choice but to follow your heart, like you’re not afraid of anything.”

“I’m afraid of everything, actually, all of the time,” Quentin said softly with a smile.

“But you do it anyway,” Eliot insisted, his face only a breath away. “You make me want to be brave, Quentin of Frell.”

Q couldn’t breathe, not with Eliot so close. Could this really be happening? Could he maybe possibly be lucky enough to have this? _Why not?_ With the word _brave_ echoing in his ears, Quentin closed his eyes and leaned forward until their mouths collided. Eliot’s lips were soft and gentle under his own, and the only thing he could think was _finally_ , before his brain stopped thinking anything at all. 


	7. an evil command

LaMea, the shining capital city, was even more beautiful than Quentin ever dreamed. Everywhere he looked, there was something new to see. Towers stretched up into the clouds, flags and banners of every color fluttered in the wind, and there were many people milling about in the streets. It was so different from Frell, it could almost have been a different universe. 

Royal Guards met them at the gate to escort them to the castle, but as they rode, Quentin didn’t think they would have been necessary. The people _loved_ Eliot. They looked up with eager faces as he rode past, smiling when he returned their waves with his own. _Prince Eliot the Spectacular,_ Quentin thought with a grin. 

They finally reached the castle itself and Quentin fell speechless again. The place was huge and foreboding, leaning over them intimidatingly. He couldn’t imagine growing up there as a child, and felt a pang of sadness for Eliot as a child, so removed from everyone else. He was startled from his thoughts when Eliot came up and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him snug against his side. Quentin felt his face warm at the contact. He was starting to get addicted to it, how Eliot would just put his arm around him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Well,” Eliot said, gesturing around them at the castle, “what do you think?” 

“It’s…” Quentin struggled to find a word that encompassed everything he was feeling, “…big.” 

Eliot shook with laughter, and Quentin heard Margo mutter a _“that’s what she said”_ behind them. 

“Don’t worry, I promise to take it slow, ease you into it,” Eliot said with a wink. Quentin felt his face flush even further. 

They continued into the castle, but were blocked from going further by a large crowd in the foyer. Eliot groaned and motioned them towards a door to the side.

“Castle tour,” he whispered in explanation. “Usually rabid fans. Best if we avoid them.” 

They tiptoed their way towards the edge of the room, trying desperately to avoid detection, but Quentin froze when he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. 

_Fen. Fen is here. What the hell is Fen doing here?_

Julia hissed his name from where she was already by the wall, motioning for him to hurry up. He gritted his teeth and crept along, hoping against hope that Fen hadn’t heard them. 

“Quentin?”

 _Shit fuck goddammit it all to hell._

“Uhhhhh, no, I’m…George,” he said in a high pitched voice, wincing as soon as the words came out of his mouth. He saw Kady facepalm and yeah, okay, he deserved that. 

“Quentin, where the hell have you been?” Her eyes widened as she realized who was with him. “Prince Eliot!” 

A gasp rippled through the crowd at that name and suddenly a hundred eyes were on them at once. Quentin had just enough time to grip Eliot’s hand tightly before chaos descended. 

The crowd erupted into delighted shrieks, rushing the small group, desperate to get their hands on the prince. Kady and Margo pushed themselves to the front, already in defensive positions, just as Eliot shouted, _“_ ** _Run_** _!”_

The next moment, Quentin was getting yanked through a door, his feet already running before he even knew where he was going. Eliot was in front of him, his head thrown back with laughter that rang through the empty hallways. Quentin heard the clamor of an altercation behind him but he didn’t look back. They spun around corners and down hallways, hands tightly intertwined, until the only sound they could hear was the thundering of their feet mixed with their breathless laughter. 

They finally slowed down, Quentin sagging against one of the walls as he gasped in air. Eliot was still laughing, his face open and free. His curls had come loose from his careful coif and were hanging around his face, and his shirt was twisted around and coming untucked. He looked so goddamn _good_. Quentin had a moment of wishing he could kiss him before he remembered, _oh yeah, we’re doing that now._

He pushed himself off the wall, letting himself half step, half fall onto Eliot, reaching up on his tiptoes to press his lips against his. Eliot made a muffled delighted noise against Q’s mouth, before snaking a hand around the back of the smaller man’s neck and deepening the kiss. 

A throat cleared next to them. 

Quentin gave a very unmanly shriek and jumped. Standing a short distance away was a tall man with dark hair that anyone in the kingdom would recognize. King Regent Martin. Standing this close to him it was impossible to miss the way his eyes pierced, ice cold and borderline cruel. Quentin’s blood ran cold. He moved to step away from Eliot, but the prince kept a tight arm wrapped around his waist. 

“Uncle!” Eliot greeted cheerfully. “I was about to come find you. I’m back in LaMea.” 

“Clearly,” Martin said, his voice thick and syrupy. Quentin was reminded of those potions he would see in the market, the ones that would coat your fingers with a thick film and stain them dark as night. “And who might this be?”

“This is my…” Eliot paused, clearly looking for the best word to apply to the man currently tucked underneath his arm, before settling on, “…Quentin.” 

“Your Quentin?” Martin asked, raising an eyebrow at them both. “Isn’t that quaint.” 

“Quentin’s looking for his godfather,” Eliot said. “I’m taking him to the Hall of Records.” 

Martin fixed his gaze on Quentin and Q did his best to resist the urge to squirm. He felt like he was one of those science experiments they made you do in school, like Martin was pinning him down and peeling back layers of skin and muscle until he figured out exactly what made him tick. 

“We wouldn’t want to deny _your Quentin_ anything that could help him, now would we?” Martin said, managing to make it sound like a threat. He finally looked away, and Quentin gave a small sigh of relief. “Eliot, come find me as soon as you’re done, we need to discuss tomorrow’s coronation.”

“Of course, Uncle,” Eliot answered, already starting to shift the two of them away and down the hall. “Right after I drop Quentin off.” 

“Yes, well,” Martin waved them away sanctimoniously. “ **Hop to it**.” 

Quentin immediately started hopping up and down in place. He gave a nervous chuckle as Martin looked at him strangely. Every instinct in him was telling him to run, so he turned himself around and started hopping down the hall. He heard Eliot give a confused laugh and start hopping after him. His face burned with embarrassment, but it was just one more reason to track Fogg down as quickly as possible. 

* * *

Eliot watched Quentin’s eyes widen as they walked into the Hall of Records. He was enjoying it more than he should, probably, seeing the castle again through Quentin’s eyes. 

“Q,” he teased, enjoying the way the nickname sounded, “are you okay?”

“There’s so many books,” Quentin whispered, craning his neck to look at the highest shelves. “How the hell am I going to find him?” 

“They’re all organized,” Eliot explained, tugging him over to where the book of contents was. “You can search alphabetically, by species, or by city. It might take a bit but you’ll find him.” 

Quentin flipped through the book distractedly, before letting out a shocked gasp. “Julia!” he cried. “The others! We just left the others behind, we have to go find them!” He looked up at Eliot with those puppy dog eyes that should really be illegal.

“Calm down” Eliot soothed, pulling him back towards him. “Margo won’t let anything happen to them. You look for Fogg, I’ll meet with my uncle, and then we’ll go find the others.” 

“Okay, yeah, that’s probably a good plan,” Quentin mumbled, his eyes still wide, mind racing a mile a minute.

“Hey,” Eliot whispered, sliding his hand around to cup the back of Quentin’s neck, enjoying the way it made the smaller man relax in his arms. “Everything’s going to be just fine.” 

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss against Q’s soft mouth. He would never get tired of the way Quentin just _melted_ against him when they kissed. 

“Promise?” Q murmured, his lips dragging against Eliot’s. 

“I promise,” Eliot swore as he reluctantly tore himself away. 

* * *

Eliot felt like he was floating on clouds as he made his way through the castle to his uncle’s chambers. The way Quentin made him feel, it was better than any drink or drug. He made him feel _alive_ in a way that he hadn’t since a child. He was addicted to the way Quentin looked at him, like he could see the real him, the him behind the spectacular façade. It was like Q saw him, and maybe even _loved_ him, flaws and all. 

He burst into the room where his uncle was sitting at his desk, looking over some papers. 

“Ah, there you are,” Martin said, glancing up at him. “They need you to try on your robes for tomorrow.” 

He motioned towards the ornate formal attire that was laid out on the bed. Eliot ran his hands along the jeweled doublet, surprising himself when his first reaction was _I wonder if Q will like it_. A servant stepped forward to help him dress, but he waved her away. She scurried out of the room quickly and Eliot didn’t miss the relieved look on her face. He couldn’t blame her. If he was a servant, he wouldn't want to be in the same room as Martin either. 

“And how was your ‘adventure’?” Martin asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Enlightening,” Eliot said, sliding the ceremonial clothes on. He fidgeted with the shoulders, shifting them until they were comfortable. “I have an idea now of where I want to start with reform.”

Martin rose from his seat, coming to inspect the clothing. “It fits well,” he remarked, cool as ice. “You’ve never mentioned reform before.” 

“I want to change things, uncle,” Eliot said. Martin turned away to stare pensively out the window. “I’ve met with the Giants and the policies that currently govern them are, frankly, barbaric.” 

He knew he was walking thin ice, insulting the policies that he knew Martin had put in place himself, but he needed his uncle to understand that things were going to change, with or without his approval. After all, after tomorrow’s coronation, it wasn’t like Martin would have any choice. 

“I would advise against being so hasty to change things,” Martin warned, pacing back and forth behind him. “You’re still very new to ruling, I would hate for you to have the kingdom turn against you for foolish mistakes. Mistakes that I could help you prevent.” 

“Mother always said I’d have to find my own way to be King,” Eliot said quietly. “Or have you forgotten everything?” 

He met Martin’s eyes in the mirror, challenging him silently. Eliot’s mother had been a good queen, beloved by the people, and the land had flourished under her reign. When she died from a mysterious illness, it was like the warmth had been leached out of everything, leaving it cold and hard. Even Martin had changed, from the distant but charming uncle into the cold ruler standing in front of him. 

Martin stared at him now, his face a careful mask of no emotions, the same way it always was. Eliot wondered if he remembered how things used to be, or if he even cared. Eliot stared him down until Martin finally moved, his face cracking into an artificial smile.

“Of course, nephew,” he simpered. “Now tell me about this Quentin. Where on earth did you find someone so odd?” 

Eliot couldn’t help the soft smile that came to his face when he thought about Quentin. “He’s from Frell. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met, he’s smart and kind and brave and…I… _I think I’m in love with him_.” 

Eliot paused as he realized that was true. _I’m in love with Quentin_. The thought terrified him. He’d never loved anyone or anything as much as he loved the boy from Frell, and he was struck with the sudden paralyzing fear of losing him. He knew instantly without a doubt that he would do anything to keep Q by his side, happy and safe. 

“Of course you are,” Martin scoffed. 

White hot anger burned in Eliot’s chest. For the first time, he was happy the coronation was tomorrow, because he was done letting everyone else tell him who he was supposed to be. 

“I’m going to ask him to marry me. Tonight, in the Hall of Mirrors.” 

Martin froze, his back to the prince. Eliot felt a surge of pride for finally getting that cold exterior to crack. When he finally turned around, Martin’s face was the perfect picture of the doting uncle. Eliot hated it with a burning passion.

“My congratulations to you both,” he said, giving a slight bow. The two men stood in a silent standoff, waiting for the other to crack first. It was Martin who was the first to move, spinning on his heel and calling something about _important business_ over his shoulder as he swept out of the room.

Eliot let out a sigh as he was finally left alone. He studied his reflection in the mirror. The coronation robes were the most ornate thing he’d ever worn, and that was saying something. Still, it felt good. Natural. _I think you’re gonna be a great king_ , Quentin’s voice echoed in his head. He could do this. One more day, and then he would finally be free.

* * *

_His nephew was proving to be a real problem._

Martin stalked through the castle halls, too distracted by his own mulling thoughts to even enjoy the way people scrambled out of his way. 

Eliot had found a spine out there on his ‘adventure’, and he had come back talking about _reform_ and _being in love_. It made him sick. Martin hadn’t been afraid of the coronation because he had foolishly assumed that he could keep Eliot placated with drugs and boys. A strung out prince upgraded to a strung out King, and Martin would stay the one calling the shots. 

Clearly that wouldn’t happen now. But that was alright, plans could change. And if his right hand man, Heston, was to be believed, the perfect plan may have just fallen into his lap. He shoved open the door to the hidden room where he did most of his best work, a lovely little place that had the benefit of being both soundproof and not known to anyone except him and Heston. 

“Now,” he said, settling himself into his chair across from the two peasants who sat on the other side of the desk. “You say you know this Quentin of Frell?” 

The girl’s eyes widened as she realized who was sitting across from him. Martin felt a thrill of pleasure at her fear. 

“Yes,” she nodded nervously. “He’s our step-brother.” 

_Rather convenient_ , he thought, but Heston had checked it out and said it was true. _Fate must just be smiling down on me today._ Now he just had to play the delicate game of extracting the right information from his startled prey. He put on his best winning smile and spread his hands disarmingly. 

“Well, you see, here’s the thing…” he paused, waiting for her to supply her name. 

“Fen,” she whispered. 

“Fen.” He nodded in thanks. “You see, Fen, it appears this Quentin has gotten quite close to my nephew, Prince Eliot? Surely you’ve heard of him.” 

Fen’s cheeks blushed at the mention of the prince. Her idiotic brother nodded slowly. 

“Of course you have,” he grinned. “Obviously I want what’s best for my nephew, and the kingdom, so naturally I need to find out everything there is to know about this boy.” 

Fen chewed on her lip nervously, and the brother kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. There was something, he could sense it. Something big, something secret, something that would be really truly useful.

“Of course, if someone were to come up with something especially helpful,” he continued, gesturing nonchalantly, “we would be sure to reward her in a way that was fitting.” He paused waiting for it to sink in, before going in for the kill. “Say…the prince’s hand in marriage, perhaps?” 

He could pinpoint the exact moment she figured out exactly what he was offering. Promising the prince’s hand was easy when he knew the prince wasn’t going to live long enough to make good on it. Not that she knew that, of course. Her eyes widened impossibly further, and a brief second later her brother was also gasping with realization. She leaned forward eagerly, so deliciously desperate to prove her worth. 

“Quentin _has_ to do everything he’s told,” she blurted out. “He always obeys a direct order. He can’t help it.” 

Martin grinned. _This was going to be fun._

* * *

Quentin was up to his elbows in books and he was about ready to tear his hair out. He’d looked for Fogg every way he could think, first name, last name, registration at the fairy guild, but he’d found jack shit. Now he was going through all the species listings, one fairy at a time, hoping that somehow Fogg had just been overlooked and would be listed in there somewhere.

He flipped the pages slowly, his eyes starting to swim from looking at the same font for too long. _I’d do anything for a cup of coffee right now_ , he thought with a sigh. His thoughts drifted from coffee to Eliot bringing him coffee to Eliot bringing him coffee in the morning after they--

 _Okay, nope, focus._ None of that was going to happen if he couldn’t get this fucking curse lifted. He turned another page and suddenly, it was there. Henry Fogg, penciled in between two other names like someone had added him after the book had already been printed. Quentin gave a soft cry as he quickly copied the address onto a loose piece of paper. 

“I found him,” he said, looking at the paper in his hand like he couldn’t believe it was real. 

“Congratulations.” 

Quentin gave a yelp, jumping up from his seat. His blood turned to ice when he saw who it was who had spoken. Martin stood at the end of the table, running his fingers along the books laid out there. Q froze, like an animal catching sight of a predator, waiting to see what the King Regent did next.

“My nephew seems to be quite taken with you,” Martin said, absentmindedly turning a page of one of the books. 

Quentin swallowed hard. He carefully slid the piece of paper with Fogg’s address into his pocket, determined not to lose the precious information. 

“Tonight is the Prince’s Ball, did you know that?” Martin said casually, slowly making his way around the table towards Quentin. 

Q shook his head mutely. 

“Everyone who’s anyone is going to be there.” Martin picked up a book and held it in front of him. He met Quentin’s eyes and then very deliberately dropped the book. It landed with a loud _thud_ on the floor. “Oh! How clumsy of me. **Pick it up**.”

Time stood still for a moment as the horrible realization of what was happening struck Q, and then he was already moving to pick up the book. _Oh god no, please, let it be a coincidence._ He straightened up slowly, placing the book back on the table. 

“Interesting,” Martin said with a wicked smile. “Let’s try another one. **Stand on one foot**.”

Quentin tried to resist but it was futile, the curse was already lifting his leg. His brain quickly supplied a list of all the terrible things a King Regent could make him do, and he squeezed his eyes shut to block it out. He wobbled precariously on one foot. 

“ **Touch your toes. Sit down. Spin around**.”

The orders started coming one after the other, Martin cackling delightedly as Quentin rushed to obey each order before the next one took hold. 

“Okay, **stop** ,” Martin finally said. Quentin leaned against the table, gasping for air, mind racing as he tried to figure out how he could have found out about his curse. 

“As wonderfully entertaining as that was, I have a much more important mission for you.” Martin slunk forward until he was standing in front of Quentin. “ **You will go to the ball tonight. You will dance with the prince.** And when he whisks you away at midnight to take you to the Hall of Mirrors, **you will go with him.** ”

Quentin trembled with the force of the commands taking hold. He briefly wondered how Martin knew all of this was going to happen, but if he had found out about the curse, there was no limit to what he might know. 

“And then, at the stroke of midnight, **you will take this knife,** ” Martin slid an ornate dagger out of the folds of his robes, “and **you will plunge it into Eliot’s heart.** ” 

Quentin’s stomach dropped. _No, no, no, no._ The dagger glinted in the light between them. _It couldn’t be happening, this was a dream, this wasn’t real._ Forget anything else that he’d been made to do, _this_ was the worst. Surely the curse wouldn’t make him kill someone? But as soon as the words left Martin's mouth he could feel it in the pit of his chest. _He was going to have to kill Eliot._

“Do you know how I know you’re going to do that?” Martin asked delightedly, like he was sharing a wonderful secret. “Because **I order you to**!” 

Quentin stumbled backwards, but there was nowhere to go. The table dug into his back, the pain making everything sharper and more real.

“How do you know?” he gasped out. 

“I’m king, darling, I know everything,” Martin smirked, twirling the dagger and admiring it. His gaze darted back to Quentin, and his amusement had hardened into stone. “Actually it’s lucky you’re here, so I won’t have to do it myself.”

Still reeling from the commands, it took a moment for Quentin to realize what Martin had just said. “You’d kill your own nephew?” he asked in horror. 

“Why not?” Martin said with a shrug. “I killed his mother.” 

_Mysterious illness,_ Quentin remembered being taught in school. If only people knew, it was really her brother who had poisoned her. “Why are you doing this?” 

Martin laughed, the sound high and maniacal. “Because I want to be King!” 

_I won’t kill Eliot, I won’t,_ _I won’t_ _!_ He kept repeating it himself, hoping he could overpower the curse by sheer willpower alone. He felt his eyes sting and knew he was crying, the tears burning hot down his cheeks. 

“Now,” Martin leaned forward, extending the dagger, “ **take the knife**.” 

Quentin tried to stop it, tried to force his arm back down, but he had no control anymore. His hand reached out and grasped the cold steel handle of the dagger. He let out a choked sob.

“Good boy,” Martin purred. “You know what to do.”

Quentin turned away, needing to get out, get away, go anywhere that wasn’t trapped in the room with Martin. He stumbled towards the doorway, the handle of the dagger digging into his palm like a constant reminder of his inevitable fate. 

“Oh, and Quentin, one more thing,” Martin called after him. “ **You will tell no one of this plan.** ” 

Quentin fled. 


	8. a final attempt

Quentin fled the palace in tears.

_I won’t kill Eliot, I won’t do it, I refuse._

Tears obscured his vision as he pushed past people in the streets, scrubbing at his face fervishly as he followed the street signs to the address scribbled on the paper in his hand. _Please be there, please be there,_ _please_ _be there…_

Fogg was his last chance. If Fogg could just lift the curse before midnight, everything would be okay! Quentin clung to that frail hope as he finally found the building that he was looking for. 

A carved sign that read ‘Dun Flyin Retirement Community’ hung above a row of matching wooden doors. Checking the paper again, Q found the door with the number 5 painted on it and knocked on it loudly. 

“Henry Fogg!” he called out. “I need to talk to you!” 

No response. Quentin felt his stomach drop as panic started to set it. _No, no, no, he_ _has_ _to be here. Maybe he’s just passed out inside._ He started pounding on the door again, calling out his name again even louder. 

“Hey, hey, human! Can you quit it with the racket?”

Quentin spun around to see a fairy poking their head out of another door in the row, looking really pissed off. 

“I need to talk to Henry Fogg,” Quentin said desperately. “It’s an emergency.” 

“So do I, honey, he owes me three months rent,” the fairy drawled, crossing her arms. “Unfortunately, he ain’t here. Hasn’t been back in weeks.” 

Quentin’s gut lurched and for a moment he thought he was gonna be sick right there in front of the fairy community. Fogg wasn’t there. Which meant that there was no way to lift the curse in time, which meant he would have to… 

_No._

He turned and stumbled away, ignoring the fairy who called out after him, not caring where he was going. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing was going to change what would happen. 

He was doomed.

* * *

Quentin sat at a little table in the corner of the parchment shop where he had just bought paper and ink.

_Dear Eliot,_

_This is the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do and I hope you understand._

He gave up on trying to stifle his tears and let them fall freely down his face. 

_We can’t be together. I’m sorry._

_I can’t tell you why, but please believe that this is the only solution._

How many times could his heart break in one day? He tried not to picture Eliot’s face when he eventually read Quentin’s words. 

_I wish you the best. I really do believe you’re going to be a great king._

_Goodbye forever,_

_Quentin_

Quentin scrubbed at his face before any of the tears could fall onto the paper. It was bad enough he was being a dramatic little bitch about it, he didn’t need to make it worse by sending Eliot a _literal tear-soaked letter._

He found a messenger outside the shop and paid her almost all of his remaining coin to make sure that Eliot got the letter as soon as possible. He couldn’t risk the prince searching for him. _Better heartbroken than dead_ , he reminded himself. He palmed the last few coins he had left. There was one more thing he needed to buy.

* * *

Quentin struggled to keep the long length of chain from slipping out of his grasp as he determinedly made his way out of the city gate. The shopkeeper had given him a funny look when he had asked for enough chain to secure someone to a tree, but you know what? The shopkeep could just go ahead and judge him. If this was what it took to keep Eliot safe, then that’s what Quentin was going to do. 

He heaved a sigh when finally cleared the city gates, exiting into the open field outside the towering walls that encircled the capital. _Almost there._

“Q! There you are!”

Quentin looked up with surprise at the familiar voice. Julia, Kady, and Alice were walking towards him, Penny tucked into Alice’s arms. Neither the elf nor the book seemed happy with that predicament, Quentin noticed absentmindedly. 

“Oh. Hi.” He felt a small pang of guilt for forgetting momentarily that they had been in LaMea with him. To be fair to himself though, he had just been commanded to commit murder, that kind of shook a person up. 

“We’ve been trying to find you all day,” Julia said. “When you and Eliot ran for it, we got separated from Margo and the guards kicked us out of the castle.” 

“What the hell is that for?” Kady asked, gesturing towards the length of chain that was still trying to escape his hands.

“You have to chain me up,” he said, holding it out towards them. 

They all looked at him with shocked silence.

“Kinky,” Penny said. 

Quentin felt his face burning and he brushed past them in annoyance, the chain clanking loudly as it dragged behind him. He stalked across the field in front of the castle walls, towards the large tree on the edge of the forest that was right where he remembered it. The others trailed after him like confused ducklings. 

“Why the sudden desire for bondage, Q?” Kady asked, highly amused at the entire situation. “And why isn’t his royal highness here to appreciate it?”

Quentin felt a stab of pain in his chest at the mention of Eliot. 

“It’s not for…it’s… _it’s not a sex thing_ ,” he snapped, flustered and embarressed. “I just need you to restrain me so I can’t do anything.” 

He reached the tree and dumped the chain in a pile in front of it. Pressing his back into the trunk of the tree, he picked up one end of the chain and started wrapping it around his waist. 

“Quentin,” Julia said, that gentle tone in her voice that she only used when he was feeling especially fragile. “Why are you chaining yourself to a tree?” She looked like she was starting to question his sanity, which, okay, that was fair, but like she’s his best friend. Couldn’t she just chain him up without asking questions? 

“I can’t tell you,” he snapped, frustrated. This was the only plan he could come up with and, yes, it might be really fucking dumb, but it was all he had. 

“Is this a curse thing?” Alice asked, concerned. “Quentin, did someone command you to do something?” 

Quentin’s throat closed off, like an invisible hand was gripping it. **_You will tell no one of this plan_** , Martin’s words echoed in his head. He swallowed hard, past the tightness in his throat. 

“ _I can’t tell you_ ,” he muttered, the words coming out strained and pain-filled from between his gritted teeth. 

He picked up some more chain, contorting himself to try and wrap it around the tree behind him, but every time he shifted more of the chain fell. This wasn’t going to work. He wanted to scream, or cry, or maybe both. 

“Alright, hold on,” Kady said with a long sigh. “You’re not doing it right.”

She came up beside him, taking the chain out of his hand and pulling it taut across his chest. He whispered his thanks, but she refused to look him in the eye. 

“What are you doing?” Julia asked Kady, waving her hands frantically like everyone had lost their minds. _Maybe we have_ , Q thought. 

“I’m doing what he asked!” Kady snapped back. “He’s _your_ best friend, would he ask us to do this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary?” 

Julia fell silent. Quentin looked at her pleadingly.

“Please, Jules,” he murmured. 

She ran her hands through her hair with a groan. 

“Okay, fine!” she cried out. “You’re right. What do you need us to do?” 

“Go back into the forest and rally all the Elves and Giants you can find,” Quentin said. “You’re gonna need all the help you can get.”

“Help for what?” Alice asked. 

“You’re going to have to get back into the castle and keep Eliot away from Martin.”

If they didn’t think he was crazy yet, they _definitely_ did now. 

“Are you insane?” 

“Why?”

“What has Martin got to do with this?” 

Their questions overlapped and Quentin slammed his head back against the tree trunk angrily. “I already told you, _I CAN’T TELL YOU!_ ” he yelled. 

His friends fell silent. Quentin squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see whatever pity or disbelief may have been on their faces at that moment. 

“Please, just trust me,” he said softly. 

When he finally opened his eyes, all he saw looking back at him was determination. 

“Okay, “ Julia said firmly. “We’re gonna go, we’re gonna find some backup, and then we’ll be back before…before anything else happens, okay?” 

She walked forwards until she was in front of Quentin, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. 

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, okay?” she whispered. “Together.” 

“Okay,” he whispered back, trying very hard to keep his voice from trembling. 

Alice darted up and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “We’ll be as fast as we can,”” she promised. 

Quentin nodded his thanks, his cheeks warming. He watched as his three friends turned away and disappeared into the forest. 

And then he was alone. 

* * *

The sun had set and it was starting to get _really fucking cold_. 

Being chained to a tree for hours can give you lots of time to think, and Quentin had used the time to come up with an extensive list of ‘Why This Was A Bad Idea’. Currently tied for the top billing was ‘Really Cold’, ‘Super Hungry’, and ‘Fuck, I Need To Pee’. In the distance the clock struck eleven and Q let out a groan as another wave of the curse took hold.

It had started about an hour ago, the waves coming for a minute or so and then disappearing for a while before coming back again with a vengeance. They had begun with just small cramps in his stomach and had grown in strength until his entire body was seizing up with pain. This one felt like someone had set fire to his skin. Quentin took short breaths through gritted teeth until it finally passed, sagging against the chains with a sigh of relief. 

He said a silent thank you to Kady for making sure the chains were secure. As horrible and numbing as this entire experience was, the only thing that would be worse was if he somehow got free and the curse was able to truly take hold. He leaned his head back against the tree and let himself really commiserate. 

_What happens at midnight? When I’m still here and the command isn’t obeyed?_ He’d never pushed the curse to the breaking point like that before. He wanted to believe that maybe that was the key to breaking the curse and that he’d finally be free, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. _More likely I’ll just spontaneously combust_ , he thought miserably. _Poof! No more Quentin._

He let out a shaky breath, staring up at the night sky full of stars. _I guess I always figured this curse would be the death of me_ , he thought. He closed his eyes and he could see Eliot’s face smiling down at him, his eyes sparkling just like the stars. Quentin smiled despite himself. _My life for Eliot’s._

_Yeah, that’s worth it._

Quentin opened his eyes again, trying to enjoy the few minutes he had until the next wave of pain came. The moonlight illuminated the field in front of him as the night sky sparkled and shimmered and distorted and warped and… _wait, what?_

A portal was opening in the sky just ahead of him. _Kady must have found something_ , Q thought hopefully. He waited anxiously as the portal opened with a crack and a figure fell through. It landed face first with a loud scream.

“Kady!” Quentin called out with a wince. “Are you okay?”

The figure stood up, stumbling a step before he steadied himself. _That’s_ _definitely_ _not Kady._ The man brushed at his three-piece suit and let out a huge belch, but it wasn’t until he turned around that Quentin realized who was standing in front of him. 

“This isn’t the tavern on Fifth Street,” said Henry Fogg, looking around confused. 

Quentin couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“Fogg! Henry Fogg!” He called out desperately. 

The fairy stopped halfway through his motions to open another portal, looking over his shoulder in surprise. 

“Well, hello,” Fogg said, noticing him for the first time. He took a few stumbling steps towards him, his eyes narrowing when he noticed the chains. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Quentin of Frell,” Q said. “You gave me a gift when I was a baby?” 

Fogg’s forehead wrinkled up as he thought. “Quentin of Frell, Quentin of Frell,” he muttered under his breath. His eyes suddenly sparked with recognition and he snapped his fingers. “Oh, I remember you! The obedient one!” 

Quentin nodded eagerly. He could have passed out from the relief.

“How are you liking your gift?” Fogg asked, a broad smile on his face. 

“Horrible,” Quentin said. “I need you to take it back.” 

Fogg’s smile fell instantly. “Take it back?” he asked, outraged. “Why in the good green fuck would I take it back? I give you a Fairy’s Gift and you want to return it like some five dollar trinket?” 

_Fuck, shit, dammit, balls._ Quentin suddenly remembered the other fairies warning about Fogg’s temperament and tried to change course. 

“It’s not that I’m not grateful for the gift, I am, really!” Quentin insisted, doing his best to look appreciative while being chained to a tree. “But because of the gift, I’m about to do something horrible to this guy that I really like and might even love.”

Quentin froze as he realized what he just said. _I love Eliot?_ He had spent the past few days very pointedly avoiding thinking about that word, but now that he said it out loud he knew it was true. _I love Eliot._

Fogg’s face was clouding dangerously with anger. “You don’t like my gift? Fine,” he pointed at Quentin accusingly. “ **Get rid of it yourself.** Don’t blame me for your problems.”

Q felt the command take hold and made a sound of frustration. _How in the HELL am I supposed to get rid of it myself?_ He opened his mouth to point out that Fogg actually _was_ the source of his problems, but the fairy wasn’t done talking.

“Did I chain your ass up to this tree, huh?” Fogg asked, gesturing at the chain and the tree. “In fact, just to prove what a gem I am, I’ll unchain you!” 

“Wait, no!” Quentin shouted, but it was too late. With a wave of his hand and a _poof!_ of smoke, the chains dissolved into nothingness around him. 

Q fell to the ground, catching himself on the palms of his hands, sending shockwaves of pain traveling up his arms. His legs were wobbly and half numb from being restrained so long. 

“Now look at you! Pretty boy like you, you should be at the ball!” Fogg exclaimed. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, looking Quentin over with a critical eye. “Well, not dressed like that.”

Fogg straightened up, moving his fingers in a complicated motion, and another _poof!_ of magic surrounded Quentin. As the smoke cleared, Q was surprised to find that he no longer had any pain from being chained, and he stood up. 

_What the hell am I wearing?_ Quentin ran his hands along the embroidered doublet, fancier than anything he had ever worn. The fabric was soft and velvety under his fingertips and he was distracted momentarily by the strange texture before remembering where he was and what was happening. 

“ _Now_ you look ready to get down,” Fogg said proudly. “ **Well, go on then! Go find your Prince Charming!** ” 

That familiar sensation took root in Quentin’s gut and he let out a groan as it yanked him forwards, towards the castle and towards Eliot. As he went careening through the field he heard Fogg shout after him. 

“You’re welcome!”


	9. a broken curse

_We can’t be together. I’m sorry._

The words kept echoing in Eliot’s head, drowning out the sounds of lilting music and soft chatter. The Prince’s Ball was in full swing, but all he could think about was that letter.

It didn’t make sense. Everything had been so perfect this morning, and then all of a sudden Q disappears and it's _goodbye forever_? No, something else was at play here, something else was keeping Quentin away from him. Q wouldn’t just leave like that. _Would he?_

Eliot had wanted to ride out and look for Quentin immediately, search the kingdom high and low until he got some fucking answers. Martin had insisted that he wait until after the coronation, saying that it was too important to delay. Eliot had been so close to telling him nothing mattered unless Quentin was here with him, but that tiny voice in the back of his head stopped him, whispering _‘you idiot, someone like Quentin would never love someone as broken as_ _you'_. 

So he had agreed to wait, and now he was stuck at this goddamn ball, being ogled by every eligible woman in the kingdom. All he wanted was to have Quentin in front of him again, looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes, wanting him. _He doesn’t want you_ , the voice whispered, _he ran from you the minute he could get away._

Eliot pushed himself out of his chair angrily, trying to get away from his own thoughts. He shoved his way through the crowd until he found the table with wines and liquors, pouring himself a glass of something, _anything_ , not caring what bottle he picked up. He downed the drink in one gulp, wincing at the burn, and poured another one. The liquor settled in his stomach, nestling in right next to the regret. 

_I don’t want this_. He didn’t want to get lost in the drink and debauchery like he always did. The haze didn’t feel like comfort anymore, it felt like running away. _That’s what you’re good at right?_ The voice seemed to have gotten louder. _Running away from anything that’s good and true?_ Eliot's grip tightened on his glass. 

“You’re not looking too hot there, sugar dick,” Margo's voice cut through his thoughts. He glanced over at the short woman who had materialized at his side. “And that’s saying something, cause I’ve seen you passed out, naked and covered in horse shit, and you still managed to look hot then.”

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to admit to the turmoil that was tearing him up inside. But of course he didn’t have to, this was his Bambi. She just knew. Her small hand slipped into his, squeezing tight. Always so tight, so much strength in such a tiny form, holding him together. 

“We’re gonna find him,” she promised, “and we’re gonna figure it out.” 

Eliot squeezed her hand back. “He said it was the only solution,” he whispered. 

Margo rolled her eyes, nudging him with her elbow. “No offense to your boy, but he can kind of be a dumbass.” 

Eliot let out a soft laugh. Maybe he was, but he was his dumbass. _My brave, wonderful dumbass._ And something had to be keeping him away. It was the only answer he would accept. 

“Do the rest of them know anything? Julia and Alice and them?” he asked suddenly, turning to Margo with hopeful eyes. 

If anyone else had been looking they would’ve missed the pinch of pain in her eyes, but it was him looking and he saw it. “They disappeared the same time he did.” 

He pulled her into his side, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. _They were going to get to the bottom of this_ , he swore. 

His eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of a familiar face across the crowd. Handing his drink to Margo, he moved through the crowd again until he was standing in front of the girl. She gave a muffled shriek as she recognized him. 

“Prince Eliot.”

“Fen.” He held out a hand. “Dance with me?”

Her eyes were threatening to pop out of her head as she held out a shocked hand. He reluctantly took it, putting his other arm around her waist and swinging her into a waltz. Fen just looked at him with a face frozen in shock, in fact it almost looked like she wasn’t breathing. _Wait, I think she actually_ _isn’t_ _breathing._

“Are you breathing?” he asked, mildly concerned. 

She took in a huge gasp of air. 

“I-I am now, I think,” she stuttered. 

Eliot was now very concerned. “Ooooookay,” he said, continuing to twirl them around the dance floor. The way Fen was staring at him was more than a little unnerving.

“This is a lovely ball,” she blurted out. 

_Fuck it all_. He wasn’t wasting any more time. 

“Have you heard from your brother recently?”

“Josh?” Her face wrinkled up in confusion. “He's over there, eating cookies.” 

Eliot gritted his teeth. “Your _other_ brother.”

“Oh, you mean Quentin! He’s technically only my step-brother, our moms got married about-”

“ _Fen_.”

“Right! Sorry. Um, last time I saw him was this morning? Yeah, in the castle, during the tour. You were there, remember?”

Eliot swore under his breath. This wasn’t helpful at all. 

“Do you have any idea why he might have disappeared without telling anyone?” he asked as they continued to spin across the room. “Or where his friends might have gone?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he glanced down towards her face. She looked as guilty as if you’d caught her red handed. _I knew she had to know something,_ Eliot thought triumphantly. He pulled them both to a stop in the middle of the dance floor, drawing people's eyes to them. 

“Where is he?” he asked insistently. Fen squirmed uncomfortably, glancing around at all the people now blatantly staring at them. 

“I don’t know where he is,” she hissed, trying to get him to continue dancing. When he wouldn't budge, she started dancing around him, pulling his arms this way and that, making herself look _absolutely fucking ridiculous_. 

“What do you know?” he asked, trying to make her stop moving as she dodged his grasp. 

“All I know is that your uncle wan--”

_CRAAAAAASH!!!_

The crowd let out a collective gasp as a figure came hurtling into the room, crashing into a table and knocking it’s contents all over half a dozen horrified guests. Eliot heard Margo’s laughter over the stunned silence of the rest of the room, and then the figure straightened. 

_Quentin_.

Eliot was half aware of Fen making a last ditch effort for his attention and he released her hand, hearing her hit the floor with an _oof_. 

Quentin was walking across the room towards him, drawn in like a magnet. The crowd parted for him, whispering in hushed tones. Q stumbled a step, walking faster and faster until he crashed into Eliot. 

_Quentin_. Eliot wanted to cry with what a relief it was to have him here, solid and _real_ against him. He wrapped his arms around the other man tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his delicious scent. 

“El, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I tried to stay away,” Quentin was babbling nonsensically. El pulled back to look at him and was horrified to see he’d been crying. 

“Q, Q, what’s wrong, what happened?” Eliot asked, brushing Quentin’s hair out of his face. “Why did you write that letter?” 

“Because I had to!” Quentin burst out, almost hysterical. “I’m not good! You can’t…I won’t…you have to stay away from me!” 

_That wasn’t an ‘I don’t want you’_ , Eliot thought desperately. He gripped the back of Quentin’s neck, looking intently into the smaller man’s eyes. “ **Tell me how you really feel about me**.”

Quentin’s breath caught in his throat, honesty shining in his eyes. “I love you.”

_He loves me! Quentin loves me, he wants me, he loves me!_ Eliot could have sang from happiness. 

“But I am wrong for you, El, I am wrong for the kingdom.” Quentin gripped his arms insistantly, determined to make whatever bizarre point he had. None of it mattered anymore. _He loves me_. 

“Is that what this is about?” Eliot asked, relieved laughter bubbling out of him. “That’s crazy. **Come with me**.”

They could figure this out. Eliot grabbed Quentin’s hand, leading him out of the ballroom. He could figure out anything as long as Quentin kept loving him. 

* * *

Quentin wiped his face as Eliot led him out of the ballroom. He felt like he was holding onto his sanity by a thread, but he would happily let it snap if it meant saving Eliot’s life. El’s hand in his was the only thing anchoring him to reality, reminding him of what was inevitable. 

“It’s just through here,” Eliot said, pushing open a heavy iron door at the end of a long hallway. The room on the other side was the most magical thing Quentin had ever seen. Every surface was covered in mirrors, reflecting in on each other endlessly. Candles flickered around them, and he couldn’t tell which ones were real and which were reflections. Above them flowers bloomed, hanging down into the room, making the whole place look like something out of a fairy tale.

Eliot led Quentin to the middle of the room, dropping his hand to step towards the closest mirror. The mirrors and the candlelight reflected off his doublet, highlighting his cheekbones and nose. Quentin’s breath caught as he looked at the man he loved. _He looks like a King_. 

“When I was little my mother took me in here, told me to look in the mirror and see myself as a great leader,” Eliot said, his face reflected a million times in the mirrors. “Somehow I never could. And then you come along...Quentin, what’s wrong?”

Quentin’s tears had returned and Eliot rushed to his side. He cradled Quentin’s head gently in his hands, brushing away the tears with his thumbs. It was the gentleness that really shattered his heart. This man deserved _so much_ , and Quentin was so broken he couldn't even warn him about the danger. 

“I wish I could tell you!” he sobbed, nuzzling into Eliot’s hand. “I wish I could tell you everything!”

“But these last few days have been perfect!” Eliot said. “Well, except for the bit where we almost got eaten by ogres.” 

Quentin let out a watery laugh. 

“And you wrote me a letter that ripped my heart out,” Eliot continued, looking more vulnerable than Quentin had ever seen. “And I had to dance with Fen.” 

Eliot gave a dramatic shudder at that last one. Quentin smiled, sniffling. “But none of these things matter,” Eliot said. “We’re together now. And when we’re together, it’s like magic.”

“El, listen to me…”

He needed Eliot to understand, needed him to leave before it was too late.

“Quentin Coldwater,” Eliot knelt in front of him, pulling something small out of his pocket, “will you marry me?”

Quentin couldn’t breathe. This was everything he wanted. Eliot, _his_ , forever. 

Then the clock struck twelve. 

“No, no, no…”

He stumbled backwards, away from Eliot. El sprung back to his feet, grabbing Quentin’s hands to keep him from falling. 

“I don’t understand. What is it? My politics? Your family?” Eliot asked frantically, searching Q’s face for answers. “Because those things aren’t important. What’s important is what’s in our hearts. If our love is strong, we can conquer anything.”

Quentin wanted _so bad_ to believe him, but there were some things so powerful even love couldn’t stop them. 

“I do love you, El,” he said, trying to push Eliot away, trying to save him, even if it was too late. The clock was still ringing. How many strikes had it been? Nine? Ten? How much longer did he have?

Eliot wrapped him up in his arms, _the only place he ever wanted to be_ , the place that was going to get his love killed, and the hall fell silent. 

Midnight.

Over Eliot’s shoulder, he saw his own hand rise, gripping the fated dagger. He clenched his teeth as he started fighting the curse harder than he had ever fought it before. _I won’t! Do you hear me? I won’t kill him!_

He found his own reflection in the mirror behind Eliot. He could barely recognize himself. The desperation, the fear, the sheer determination, all twisted his face into some tortured soul that couldn’t be him. An entire lifetimes worth of orders echoed through his head, each more soul crushing than the last. 

**_“You must never tell anyone.”_ **

**_“Give it to me!"_ **

**_“Run home now."_ **

**_“Tell her you could never be friends with an Aorthian.”_ **

**_“You will take this knife and plunge it into his heart.”_ **

Quentin’s hand was beginning to shake from the effort of resisting the curse. The air around them felt charged with electricity, and he felt like everything he was feeling inside could light the fuse that would destroy everything. He locked eyes with that crazed, desperate stranger in the mirror. _No more._ Quentin took all of that anger and frustration and sadness and pain that had lived in his belly for so long, and he pushed it up and out of his throat into a scream.

“ **You will no longer be obedient**!”

There was a _crackle_ of energy through the air, and then everything was still. 

_It was gone._ He did it. 

The knife clattered to the ground. 

“Holy shit,” Quentin whispered, still not believing it was real. “I did it. El, I did it!”

He looked up, only to see Eliot looking at the dagger with a horrified expression. 

“You tried to kill me?”

“Eliot, no!” Quentin reached for him, but El stepped back. “That’s not…I can explain.”

“You had…a knife,” Eliot said, holding a hand up between them. He finally tore his eyes away from the dagger, and Quentin’s heart stopped when he saw the tears in Eliot’s eyes. “You tried to kill me.” 

_No, no, no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go!_ Quentin tried to take a step towards Eliot to explain, but a door crashed open and suddenly the room was filled with guards. Martin came stalking in behind them.

“He just tried to kill the prince!” he bellowed. “Take him to the dungeons immediately.”

Quentin’s arms were seized and twisted behind his back roughly.

“Eliot, no, it wasn’t me,” he yelled out as they started dragging him away. 

“He’s clearly an assassin,” Martin said, waving the guards to move faster. “You can’t believe a word he says.” 

“Please,” Quentin cried. _This can’t be happening, not when I’ve finally got my freedom._ “Eliot!”

The last thing Quentin saw was Eliot turning his back on him before the iron door slammed shut. 


	10. a perfect ending

Julia was on a mission and heavens help anything that thought of getting in her way. 

Rallying the Giants had been surprisingly easy, all they’d had to do was tell Koopaduk that Eliot needed help and they had instantly agreed to come. The Elves had proven to be a little more difficult, but somehow Alice had been able to convince and/or blackmail a couple dozen into helping them. 

The real problem had arisen when they had arrived back at the tree only to find both Quentin and the chains missing. 

“Where the fuck did he go?” Alice asked, looking around confused. 

“My chain work was solid,” Kady pointed out. “Someone had to have untied him.” 

“You left your friend chained to a tree?” Koopaduk asked, looking down at them skeptically. 

“There were extenuating circumstances,” Alice said curtly. 

“Staying on topic,” Julia said, “if he’s not here, I’m assuming it means he’s in the castle, trying to keep Eliot away from Martin.” 

“How in the hell are we going to sneak _them_ into the castle?” Kady asked, gesturing over her shoulder at the Giants and Elves. 

Either luck or fate was on their side, because they didn’t even need to sneak them in. With the coronation happening, there were guests from all over the kingdom arriving at the castle. All it took was a little fancy talk from Alice and a little magic from Kady, and they were through the gates. 

“Alright,” Julia said, addressing the group. “Should we split up to look for Q?” 

“I don’t like the idea of splitting up,” Kady frowned. “Too many possibilities.” 

A throat cleared pointedly behind them. 

“Um, are you guys looking for Quentin?” Fen asked, wringing her hands nervously. 

Julia moved quickly, fisting her hand in the fabric of the other girl’s sleeve so she couldn't escape. “Where the fuck is he?” she asked. 

“Ow, ouch, okay, calm down,” Fen complained, trying to twist out of Julia’s grip. “He showed up at the ball last night. He made quite the dramatic entrance actually, and he interrupted mine and Eliot’s dance, it was very rude.” 

“Where is he now?” Julia hissed, tightening her grip. 

“Can you stop with the manhandling?” Fen whined. “I don’t know where he is _exactly_ , but right after he left with Eliot, King Martin and a bunch of guards went in the same direction, so if I had to guess, I’d say he’s in the dungeon.” 

Julia swore. 

“I helped you out, so we’re even now right?” Fen asked, her eyes big and begging. “This makes up for…for what my mom made Quentin say? For the _Aorthian_ thing?” She whispered the word like it was a secret. 

Julia felt her blood boil. _Fighting the bitch isn’t going to solve anything right now_ , she reminded herself. _Quentin is the priority._ She glared at the girl who had caused her best friend so much misery. “I suggest you get lost before I forget we’re on a time sensitive mission,” she spat out. 

Fen gulped and scurried away quickly. 

“How the fuck are we supposed to get in the dungeon?” Julia asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. 

“We have numbers,” Kady pointed out, nodding at the Giants and Elves. “We can try fighting our way in.” 

Alice held up a finger firmly. “I think I have a better idea.”

* * *

How had it all gotten fucked up so quickly?

Quentin sat on the cold stone floor of the dungeon, looking forlornly at the thin window that led outside. He’d finally done it, he’d broken the curse, and he hadn’t even gotten to enjoy his freedom before he’d been thrown in this janky ass dungeon. 

And now he’d never get the chance to explain to Eliot, and Martin was probably gonna have him drawn and quartered, or fed to ogres, or killed in some other horrible way. 

_Well,_ he tried to reason, _at least Eliot’s still alive, so I guess I am still giving my life for his?_ The reasoning from last night didn’t feel so certain now in the light of day, especially now that he was curse-free. _But what’s to stop Martin trying to kill Eliot again?_

Quentin let his head fall back against the wall with a thump and let out a groan. He needed to figure out a way to escape, and soon. 

He heard people talking down the hall from his cell but he ignored it. _Probably just the guards talking_ , he thought, just as one of the speakers raised their voice. 

“Listen here, shit fuck. I am Quentin of Frell’s legal representation and you are required by law to disclose to me his location.”

That almost sounded like…

“Alice?” Quentin called out. 

There was a quick hushed discussion and then several heavy thuds. Julia’s face appeared on the other side of the bars. “Heya, Q!” 

“Jules!” He reached through the bars and she squeezed his hand. “Thank fuck! Did you guys get help?” 

“Take a look,” she grinned, unlocking the door and pulling him out. 

At the end of the hall stood his Alice and Kady, guards knocked out at their feet, and surrounded by a dozen or so wide eyed Elves and several Giants crouching down to fit in the room. Quentin felt a surge of fierce love for his friends. Maybe they stood a chance, if they could just come up with a plan. 

“Martin wants to kill Eliot,” he blurted out, causing several shocked gasps from the group. “He tried to make me do it but I broke free and he threw me in here.”

“Wait, Q, does that mean…” Julia looked at him with wide eyes. 

“I did it, Jules,” he grinned at her. “I broke the curse.” 

She gave an ecstatic shriek and threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug. 

“You did it! I knew you could!” Quentin felt tears prickling at his eyes as he hugged her back. “How did you do it?” she asked, pulling back to look at him. 

“We can all tell stories later,” Kady interrupted. “We need to get out of here before more guards appear.” 

As if waiting for her cue, a loud crashing noise echoed through the doorway, followed by footsteps and shouting rushing towards them. Quentin froze as he tried to figure out what to do next. Before anyone had a chance to move, two guards appeared in the doorway. 

One of the Giants stepped forward with a growl, arm raised to attack, and Quentin briefly realized it was Koopaduck from the wedding before there was a loud _clang!_ and the guards collapsed. 

A familiar figure stood over the prone bodies, hair slicked back in its usual high ponytail. 

“Margo?”

The royal bodyguard scanned the room, raising an eyebrow at the other unconscious guards and the small army of Elves and Giant. 

“That motherfucking ballsack known as the King Regent threw me out of my own goddamn castle,” Margo ranted, kicking the downed guards out of her way as she made her way over to join the group. 

“He’s trying to kill Eliot,” Quentin said. 

“I knoooow,” Margo said, gesturing dramatically. “Why do you think he threw me out! I caught the bastard poisoning the crown and tried to chop his head off.”

“He poisoned the crown?” Alice asked, concerned.

Margo turned, as if realizing for the first time that the elf was there. “Kitty,” she said, wrapping an arm around the shorter woman’s waist and pulling her against her. “I didn’t get to do this last time and I’ve been kicking myself ever since.” 

Margo leaned forward, kissing Alice so intensely the elf bent backwards a bit with a muffled noise. Quentin’s jaw dropped and Julia let out a surprised laugh as Alice melted in the taller woman’s arms. Kady cleared her throat pointedly before the two women could start to really get into it. 

Alice’s face was flushed bright red and she looked up at Margo with a dazed expression. She seemed to startle when she realized everyone was watching her. “Oh, right, um,” she pulled away reluctantly, straightening her dress. “Crown? Poisoned?” 

“Yes, exactly,” Margo said, dragging her eyes away from her girl and back towards the rest of the group. “And the coronation is supposed to start any minute, so, you know, we should hustle.” 

Quentin jumped back into action, rushing over to the fallen guards to snatch up their weapons and distribute them amongst the group. If they were actually going to break up a coronation, better to have everyone be armed. 

“Lead the way,” he said, nodding at Margo. 

Margo quickly led them through hallways and up stairways until they reached a giant closed door, guarded by several royal guards. Margo and Kady nodded at each other and wasted no time taking out them all, the Giants dragging bodies out of the way as soon as they fell. 

The muffled sound of someone speaking loudly and officially came through the door and Quentin felt a surge of panic that he might be too late. He rushed forward and pushed open the heavy double doors, just in time to see Martin about to lower the fated crown onto a kneeling Eliot’s head. 

_“Drop that crown!”_

* * *

Something wasn’t adding up. 

Eliot kept running through the events of the last two days, trying to puzzle out what he had missed. He must have seen something, some clue that would explain what had happened, because something wasn’t right. It was all too coincidental. He ran through the timeline again. 

_Quentin kisses him. He disappears. He writes that letter saying they can’t be together. He shows up at the ball. He tells Eliot he loves him. He tries to kill him?_

None of it made sense. If he really was an assassin like Martin said, then why go through the pretense of disappearing and breaking up with him? No, he knew Quentin, and he wasn’t an assassin. The Q he knew wouldn’t do that. But then why had he been holding a knife to his back in the Hall of Mirrors?

Round and round it went, so loud in his head it almost drowned out the bishop droning on and on about responsibility and destiny. Because of course Martin hadn’t let him push back the coronation. 

“Let the chosen kneel,” the bishop finally said, and Eliot gracefully dropped to one knee in front of Martin. He just wanted this to be over so he could find Quentin and make him explain everything. 

He glanced up at his uncle and froze at the expression on his face. The King Regent looked delirious, grinning at him like a rabid animal that had scented blood. 

_Something is wrong_. 

“Drop that crown!”

Eliot knew that voice. He would know that voice in any timeline. He turned a moment before anyone else did, instinctively tuned into that voice he would follow anywhere, even to his own doom. 

Quentin was standing in the doorway, still wearing the embroidered doublet from last night. Eliot winced when he saw how dirty it was from being in a dungeon overnight, cursing himself for letting Martin convince him to leave Q there. 

Quentin didn’t look like he’d been hurt, though, El noted with relief. Q’s hand was outstretched towards them and he looking fucking _panicked,_ and Eliot hated how he knew he would do anything to fix it, even if it killed him.

“You,” Martin hissed, glaring at Quentin across the room. He turned, spinning around to look at the shadows in the corner of the room. “Release the Red Guard!” 

Eliot sprung to his feet as, out of nowhere, ninjas in red masks came dropping and swinging and running into the room, an entire army ready to defend their King Regent. 

Everything was chaos. 

Guests screamed in terror as the ninjas descended, and Quentin rushed into the room followed by… _Koopaduck?_ Eliot’s jaw dropped as Giants and Elves poured into the room after Q, with none other than his Bambi leading the charge. 

_What the ever living FUCK is happening??_

It was a full on brawl now, with ninjas and guards attacking the Giants and Elves, fists flying everywhere and weapons clanging loudly against each other. Eliot scanned the room frantically, trying to catch another glimpse of Quentin, finally finding him in the middle of the room trying to fight his way towards the raised platform that held the throne and Eliot. 

There was a split second where Eliot’s brain tried to remind him that Quentin might be an assassin sent to kill him, but that logic was quickly overridden by the desperate and immediate need to get to Q’s side as quickly as possible to keep him safe. 

El jumped off the platform, yanking a sword from a nearby guard and throwing himself into the chaos. Quentin spotted him and redoubled his efforts to get closer. 

“Eliot!” Q called his name, his frantic energy turning to anger as another guard got in his way. He stabbed at the guards legs with his sword, and shouldered him out of his path. 

El was so distracted by the sight of Quentin with a sword he almost didn’t duck out of the way in time as a sword came swinging by his head. Luckily whoever was wielding it was aiming at someone else, so it didn’t take much effort to dodge it. _Focus, Eliot_. Quentin was only a few feet away now. 

“That’s the second time now,” Eliot shouted at him over the noise, “that you’ve come crashing through those doors and turned everything upside down!” 

“I know! I’m sorry!” Quentin shouted back, still fighting to get closer. He squeezed between two screaming guests only to come face to face with a ninja. 

Eliot acted on instinct. He saw Quentin in danger and he didn’t even think, surging forward and swinging at the man between them. Quentin gave a strangled scream as the ninja crumpled in front of him. 

“I can’t believe I’m saving you after you tried to kill me,” Eliot said, already positioning himself between Q and the majority of the danger. 

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” Quentin protested, which, _what??_ , but then another ninja was approaching and Eliot was moving again. 

“You stay away from him!” He shouted at the masked attacker, before swinging at his head and kicking him back into the fray. Eliot turned back to Quentin, exasperated. “Oh, so that dagger you were about to plunge into my back was just an early wedding present?”

“Okay, maybe I did try to kill you, but that wasn’t me!” Quentin said, nothing but honesty in those big doe eyes of his. 

“What?!” Eliot swung at another ninja as Quentin picked up a chair and smacked it over another one’s head. “What do you _mean_ it wasn’t you? Who the fuck was it, your evil twin?” 

“No, I mean, it _was_ me, but it wasn’t my fault,” Q explained, arms waving frantically, still holding the fragments of the chair. “I was under a spell, Eliot.” 

_A spell._ It was like everything stilled around him as it all clicked into place. Of course it was a spell. Eliot reached for Quentin, pulling him up out of immediate danger and onto the raised platform holding the throne. 

“Tell me everything.” 

* * *

Everything was chaos.

Julia swung wildly at anything that attacked her. Her arms were screaming in pain, her muscles not used to having to swing a heavy sword around, but the fate of the fucking kingdom was at stake, so like hell was she about to stop. 

The onslaught paused for a brief second, and she took advantage of the moment to figure out what happened to everyone else. As soon as the ninja’s had been released it had all kind of gone to shit, and the whole group had been separated. 

She scanned the crowd, quickly finding Kady all the way on the other side of the room, firing battle magic at anything that moved. _That’s my girl,_ Jules thought proudly. She kept looking until she found Margo and Alice, a whirlwind of blades in the open doorway. For all her primness, the elf was having no trouble matching Margo’s intensity, both of them letting out blood curdling screams as they fought. _But then where is…?_

A scream from Penny drew her gaze and she turned just in time to see a sword slam into the wood of a table just a hair's breadth away from where the giant tome had been thrown haphazardly. He met her eyes, looking frantic.

“A pair of legs would be _really_ nice right about now,” he yelled out towards her. 

“Kady!” Julia called, drawing the fairy’s attention from across the room. “Penny’s a sitting target, you need to turn him human!” 

Kady’s face paled as her eyes jumped back and forth between the two of them. “I-It’s gonna go wrong,” she stammered. 

Julia spotted another sword swinging towards the tome and dove to block it. “You have to try,” she yelled over her shoulder at Kady. 

“I’ll be fine, babe,” Penny said. “I trust you.” 

Kady muttered a string of curses under her breath, positioning herself to cast at Penny. “Fairies and kingdoms across the land,” Kady recited, her hands moving carefully through unfamiliar placements, “please help me turn Penny back into a man!”

_Craaaaack!_

A blinding light accompanied the sound, and a huge cloud of orange magic appeared around where the tome had been lying on the table. Julia and Kady held their breath, waiting anxiously as the dust settled. 

The first thing Julia could see through the dust was a pair of muscled arms and she almost forgot about everything else that was happening for a second. The rest of the magic disappeared and she could finally see the figure that stood before her, fully human. She quickly looked him over, confirming he was whole and healthy, hoping he didn’t notice the way her gaze lingered on his bare chest where his shirt was open practically to his navel. _Jesus fucking tits, he’s even hotter out of the book._

“Oh hell yes!” Penny said, looking down at his body and flexing his fingers like he was trying to convince himself it was real. He spotted a ninja that was coming towards him and immediately reeled back and punched it, knocking it out with a solid right hook. “It’s good to be back!” 

Kady looked like she was about to run across the room and join them, but Penny held up a hand to stop her. 

“Reunion later,” he said, reminding them both of the task at hand. “Ass-kicking now.” 

Both women nodded at him in unison. Penny grabbed a staff from a fallen ninja and all three of them moved in sync, falling back into the battle. 

* * *

“...and then Martin found out about the curse and he ordered me to kill you!” 

Quentin’s mind was racing, trying to tell the whole story as quickly as possible. He was so desperate to get Eliot to understand and believe him that he wasn’t even aware of half the words that were tumbling out of his mouth. 

“And the only way I could think to stop it was to break up with you even though I’m…” he paused for breath, stuttering as Eliot brushed a hair out of his face, “…I’m pretty sure that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Quentin looked up at his prince, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. _Did it work? Do you believe me?_ Eliot’s eyes darted back and forth as his brain raced to process everything. 

“And that crown that he was about to put on your head is a trick,” he added, gesturing to where the crown now lay on the throne. “It’s poisoned.” 

Eliot’s eyes finally landed on the throne and his gaze sharpened. “Martin’s trying to kill me?”

“There’s one more thing,” Q said softly, stepping closer. “El, he…he killed your mother.”

Eliot’s face changed, hardening into certainty. Whatever he was thinking, that last piece of information seemed to make it all suddenly clear. 

A movement at the corner of his vision caught Quentin’s attention and he lunged, grabbing a very angry-looking Martin before he could successfully sneak away. 

“Unhand me at once, you miserable boy,” he hissed, struggling against Q’s grasp. 

Eliot’s hand shot out, fisting in the front of Martin’s doublet, and he pinned the squirming man against the throne. Martin’s eyes widened in shock. 

“Is it true?” Eliot asked, his voice low and ice cold. “Did you kill my mother?” 

Martin stilled under his nephew’s gaze, and finally all pretense and façade fell away. 

“Of course it’s true,” he crooned, his face splitting in a malicious grin.

Eliot’s fingers tightened, his knuckles going white. The two royals were oblivious to the rest of the room, but Quentin noticed as guests and enemies alike stopped fighting, stunned to silence by the display. 

“Why?” Eliot ground out, his voice thick with emotion. 

“It’s really quite simple,” Martin chuckled, his eyes taking on a maniacal glint. “I wanted something, she got in my way, I got rid of her.” 

A ripple of gasps ran through the crowd, as the entire room was now completely still and hanging on every word. Eliot dropped his arm, like it was just too heavy to hold up anymore, and Quentin stepped forward to quietly take his hand. 

Martin finally seemed to notice the crowd that was now looking at him in horror, and he stumbled forwards to the edge of the platform. 

“She wasn’t fit to wear this crown!” he screamed at them, stabbing a finger in the air. He swung around wildly to point at Eliot. “And you are not fit to wear this crown!” 

Quentin tightened his grip on Eliot’s hand, as the prince took a step forward to stand between Q and the now completely deranged Regent. 

“This crown is MINE!” Martin screeched, snatching the crown off of the throne and brandishing it towards them like a weapon. “This kingdom is _MINE!”_

With the last word echoing through the throne room, Martin jammed the crown upon his own head. Quentin watched his face seize up in horror as he regained enough sanity to realize exactly what he had just done, but it was too late. The poison was instant. Martin gave a loud gasp, clawing at his throat once before he gave a final croak and collapsed. 

There was a moment of deathly silence before the crowd erupted in cheers. Humans, Elves, and Giants all let out joyful cries at the death of the person who had tormented their lives for the past decade. The ninjas stood frozen, unsure what to do now that their leader had fallen, and they were quickly disarmed and restrained by the crowd. 

Quentin, however, only had eyes for Eliot. 

He watched him anxiously, analyzing his every expression, trying to figure out what he was thinking. The prince turned slowly, taking in his uncle’s twisted body and the rejoicing people and finally landing on Quentin’s face. Q held his breath, waiting for El to pass judgement. 

“You…” Eliot took a steadying breath. “You saved my life.” 

Quentin’s breath released in a whoosh of relief and he gave the prince a tentative smile. “Then we’re even,” he said. 

The world faded away as Eliot stepped closer, sliding an arm around his waist. Quentin forgot how to breathe as it all suddenly clicked into place and he realized _they did it_. They had won. The curse was gone. Martin was defeated. He could be with Eliot. 

_I can be with Eliot_. 

“Hey,” Q whispered, craning his neck to look up at his prince.

El gave him the softest smile, _just for him_ , and pulled him impossibly closer. “Hey.” 

Q wrapped his arms around El’s neck, pressing their bodies flush together. The noise of the crowd faded away as his world narrowed to just this, _them_ , together. Eliot leaned down, resting his forehead against Quentin’s. 

“Marry me?” El asked in a hushed tone, reverently, his breath tickling Q’s mouth. 

Quentin’s face split in the biggest smile he’d had cause to give in many years. “And that I’ll do.” 

He surged up on his tiptoes, locking the two of them together in a searing kiss.


	11. a soft epilogue

Quentin didn’t think it was possible to get any happier than this. 

He was surrounded by his friends, sitting next to the love of his life, and the brand new ring on his finger promised _forever_. 

The wedding had been a spectacular event, a perfect mixture of Eliot’s flair for grandeur and Quentin’s more reserved style. Julia had stood by his side when he promised to love Eliot forever and both of them had cried. Margo had insisted on planning the reception and was now welcoming them all to it with the most unique best man’s speech he’d ever heard. It was equal parts indecent and tender, which was very Margo, and left them all in good spirits. 

Quentin let everyone else make speeches. He wasn’t one for talking in front of others, even this group of mostly friends and family, plus what was he going to say that hadn’t already been said? So when the guests called for a speech from the couple, he looked at Eliot pleadingly. 

His husband gave him a soft smile, reading his mind, and stood up. He held up his glass, the guests quickly following his lead. “To a nation of equals,” he said, raising his glass to Koopaduck, who nodded back happily. “To my good friends,” he added, grinning at the whoop he received from Margo and the _hell yeah!_ from Penny. “And to my true love, Quentin.”

 _My true love._ Quentin beamed with joy, tugging Eliot back into his seat so he could kiss him. The guests cheered and whistled as Eliot wrapped a hand around his neck, kissing him back thoroughly.

The night passed in a blur of laughter and dancing. Margo kept handing him drinks that tasted like starlight, and it turned out he wasn’t nearly as self conscious about dancing when Eliot’s arms around him, and at one point Julia even convinced him to do the stupid dance they’d made up as children, which had left Penny rolling on the floor with laughter. 

After a while, though, the lights and the noise and the drinks got to be a little overwhelming, and he found himself slipping onto a balcony for a break from it all. He took a deep breath of the crisp night air, leaning against the railing. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this carefree. He felt whole, complete. He felt like he was _home_. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew it couldn’t stay this picture perfect forever, but maybe whatever did eventually come…maybe he wouldn’t have to face it alone. 

Julia’s pealing laughter carried through the air and Quentin peered through the window, scanning the room until he found her. She was leaning comfortably back against Penny’s chest and looking up at Kady with lovestruck eyes. ' _Nothing going on there', my ass_ , Q grinned, remembering Julia’s insistence earlier that day.

At the table next to them, Margo sat with Alice practically in her lap, but from the way the elf’s face was flushed pink, he didn’t think she minded. She had been so excited a few weeks ago when she showed them all her acceptance letter into law school, her face beaming with pride. The fact that it was in LaMea and they all got to stay in the castle together was just icing on the cake. 

The slow creak of a door opening broke his reverie, and Q grinned as he saw his husband coming to join him outside. 

“There you are,” Eliot said, giving him a soft teasing smile. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind and disappeared on me.” 

Quentin made a quiet pained noise and reached for him, El’s smile only growing as he came over to wrap Q in his arms. 

“Not funny,” Q chastised. “I’m never going to change my mind about you.” 

He snuggled closer to Eliot, tucking himself right up under his arm where he fit perfectly. El absentmindedly traced figures on his back as they both took a moment to just enjoy the quiet and each other after the eventful day. 

Quentin watched his friends through the window, amazed that somehow this was his life, that he got to have all of this. He let out a contented sigh. 

“What are you thinking about?” Eliot murmured, his breath tickling the shell of Quentin’s ear, making the smaller man shiver. 

“I must have been a mass murderer or something in a past life,” Q said, his voice half muffled against the fabric of Eliot’s doublet. 

Eliot burst out laughing, his whole body shaking from the movement. Quentin tilted his head to look up at him happily, soaking in the sight of it. 

“What the fuck makes you think that?” Eliot asked, bemused. 

“Well, I must have done something _really_ bad in a past life,” Quentin explained, “to deserve all this happiness in this one.” 

Eliot’s face softened and he wrapped his husband tighter in his arms. He leaned down, pressing their lips gently together. 

“You deserve every good thing,” he said softly, his lips still close enough that they dragged along Quentin’s with every word. 

Fireworks exploded above them, bathing the city in flashes of sparkling light. Cheers from the city below mixed with laughter from his friends inside, and Quentin’s heart felt just as sparkly and light as everything around him. He pulled his husband in for another kiss, letting everything else dissolve around them as they melted into each other.

> And such is the story of Quentin of Frell  
>  _A spunky young man, once under a spell  
> _ _Now it’s back to the real world all of you I must send  
>  For I’ve only two words left, and they are…_
> 
> **** **_The End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here](https://ramblingsofaqueerwoman.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thanks for reading!!! <3


End file.
